


Third Times the Charm

by CupcakeGirlA



Series: The Charm Series [1]
Category: Olympics RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Pregnancy, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 53,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGirlA/pseuds/CupcakeGirlA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You love Michael and he loves you. But, Michael loves Ryan too...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Time

First Time

You love Michael and he loves you. You’ve never doubted that. You’ve been together four, almost five years. You dated for two, and you’ve been married for another two, plus a few months. You get along famously, and you balance each other well. Your relationship isn’t perfect, but it’s stable, and real, and full of everything you could ever have wanted in a marriage.

Michael makes you laugh. He cracks you up really. You’d never laughed so much or so hard in your life before you met Michael. And you keep him grounded. You aren’t a super model, an actress, a swimmer, or anyone special really. Just a Librarian (of all things). You met Michael by chance at the local dog park. Michael’s often joked that Herman and Barbie fell in love first. Which isn’t completely untrue. By the third meeting at the park, Herman and Barbie were wrestling playfully and slobbering all over each other. It broke both your hearts to pull them forcibly away from each other by their leashes as the sun started to set, both of you lingering longer and longer to appease your dogs each night for over a week. You didn’t think anything would come of it until on the 8th night he asked you to a local dog friendly eatery nearby. One meal led to another, led to another, and soon you were dating regularly, as eager to see each other as your dogs had always been.

In the end you get each other on a deep level. You understand his love of the pool. His passion for swimming. His utter devotion to the Phelps women. You’ve grown used to the constant smell of chlorine, the presence of swim caps, goggles, and kick boards in every closet of your shared home. You deal with his traveling for swim clinics and press tours, and you have come to love Debbie and her two beautiful daughters as if they were your own mother and sisters. Eating dinner at Debbie’s, practically a weekly occurrence, is never a burden, neither is watching your nieces and nephews in order to give Whitney and her husband Bob, some needed time alone. In return he understands your love of books, your occasional need for quiet, your internet addiction, and penchant for overanalyzing and organizing everything. He lets you have your space, and leaves you alone to read the crucial final two chapters of a good book uninterrupted. You’ve organized his life, and he’s introduced clutter to yours. In the end, you think, it all balances out pretty well.

You’re the only child of your History professor father. You grew up cuddling books, instead of people. Mike’s changed that about you. Made you feel again, something you hadn’t really done since your mother died when you were 4. Before Michael it was just you and Barbie, and a father you talk and relate too like a colleague instead of a parent.

With Michael, you have love, and laughter, and passion. He inspires you, and he makes you think about something outside your world of books and journals, and the work you have to finish on Monday at the University Library. He makes you feel alive. He makes you dream about the future. Of a bouncing baby boy running around the house with your blue eyes, and Michael’s wide smile. Or of a beautiful baby girl, with Michael’s brown eyes, and your curly hair.

And your life is full of love and passion. Make no mistake. Michael loves you. The expression on his face, when he crowds into the shower with you makes you forget the extra weight around your middle, or the pimple on your back. To Michael you’re beautiful. He doesn’t mind that you’re a bookworm, or that you like chocolate and cheesecake a little too much. An athlete you have never been. He likes you soft he says. It makes you cuddly. He warns that eventually his lack of elite training will catch up with him. He asks if you’ll still want him when he’s gotten old and fat and washed up. You laugh, and run your hand down the plane of his chest and pinch his side lightly. You say of course you will. You can’t imagine not wanting him.

And then there’s the sex. When he sinks into you, and his eyes catch yours, his huge hands cradling the middle of your back, his mouth opens with pleasure, and you don’t want for anything. He holds you close, and he moves just how it’s best. He knows your body. Knows how deep and how fast you can take him comfortably. Knows when to go slow and sweet, and when you’re in the mood to be fucked until you’re sore. He mouths your neck, and noses your sweaty temple, and whispers that he loves you and that he wants you. And you believe him, because you love him, and you want him too, sometimes insatiably.

You’ve stopped using protection, a joint decision to let nature takes its course. You’re 30 years old already, and if you want to start a family it’s the best imaginable time to start one. It’s only been a few months, but you think it’ll be soon. It’s a gut feeling. He watches you in the mornings, a hand cradling the slight (and normal) pooch of your belly, as if waiting for some sign it’s finally happened. You shake your head at him each time, rolling your eyes and laughing. He grins at you, and drapes his long arms around your waist, pulling you into his body.

So you’ve never doubted his love for you. You are his and he is yours. Forever.

So when Ryan Lochte shows up on your front step a few weeks into the New Year, face red from crying, and his heart broken, you invite him in. You get him settled quickly onto the couch in the living room, Herman and Barbie already snuggling close to help warm him up. You wrap a throw around his shoulders, and watch him sniffle into the Kleenex you’ve handed him. He smiles at you distractedly. Ryan likes you, you think, probably more than he should.

“Thanks, Cath, you’re the best,” he whispers. You smile at him and pat his knee.

“You want some hot tea?” you ask. He’s cold and miserable, already disliking the cold Baltimore weather. Late January isn’t exactly the most pleasant time of year in Maryland, especially for a Floridian. He nods eagerly, pulling Herman further into his lap, Barbie following until he’s nearly half covered by warm furry animal. You shake your head at the trio, and head into the kitchen, grabbing your cell phone on the way.

Michael answers on the third ring. You can hear the distinctive echo of splashing and laughter in the background as he smiles your name into the phone. He’s doing the typical Saturday afternoon water safety class. The one that always has him coming home happy and excited, and talking about the future. It’s on Saturdays that you discuss baby names, and which preschools in the area would be the best for your future children to attend. You grin at the sound of his voice and set some water on to boil.

“What’s up?” he asks. You pause before you answer as he shouts for someone to stop running on the pool deck, getting a called ‘Sorry, Coach Mike!’ in response.

“We have a visitor,” you inform him, getting cups and tea bags down and set up on the counter.

“A visitor?” he asks. You bite your lip.

“Ryan showed up a little while ago. I think he and Kyle have finally called it quits for good,” you explain. You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone.

“Is it bad?” he asks. You balance the phone between your cheek and shoulder.

“He hasn’t cracked a single joke. He’s shivering with cold partly because he left so fast he forgot to grab that coat we bought him last time he visited. Also, his eyes are red, and I think he might have cried the whole flight here,” you explain. He sighs again.

“Katie just got in. I think I can get her to cover for me. Tell him I’ll be home soon,”

“Ok, Hun,” you say, hanging up the phone and taking the hot water off the stove.

Ryan’s eyes light up when Michael walks through the door. The dogs sit up, barking loudly, and run to greet their Daddy. They’re each rewarded with an ear scratch before going back to their favorite Uncle. Ryan stands up to give Michael a hug, getting a Michael Phelps Special in return. Those long arms and strong shoulders are good for lift-you-off-your-feet embraces and even the great Ryan Lochte is susceptible to them from time to time. You smile at the grin that spreads across Mike’s face at seeing Ryan for the first time in weeks. The three of you eat dinner together, and when it’s done you make your excuses and go to get the guest room ready. Once you’re done you go to the top of the stairs and listen for a moment. You can’t hear the words being spoken but you can hear the murmur of familiar voices, the low tones of ESPN playing on the big screen, and the occasional burst of laughter. Smiling you head up to your office. You have some journal articles to read before going back to work on Monday, and now’s as good a time as any to get them out of the way, when Mike’s distracted.

It’s two hours later that you stretch your arms into the air, and groan, arching your back, and taking off your reading glasses. It’s late, and you’re tired. You shut out the light, and leave your office, closing the door quietly behind you. The master bedroom and guest room are both dark the doors still standing open. Listening you hear no voices downstairs. Thinking they’ve fallen asleep sprawled across the couch, you tiptoe down the stairs, expecting to find them drooling on each other’s shoulder or something equally cute. That’s not what you find. That’s not what you find at all.

You freeze, unable to make a sound, and just watch.

Ryan’s the aggressive one which, if you think about it, surprises you. He’s straddling Mike’s lap, strong arms holding Michael’s shoulders back against the leather of the couch. Not that Mike is exactly trying to fight him off. Michael’s hands are gripping the back of Ryan’s t-shirt, but they aren’t tugging to get him away, merely holding on for the ride. Ryan’s mouth is pressed to Michael’s, lips open and wet, tongue seeking, claiming. Mike groans underneath him, bucking his hips up. Ryan laughs breaking the kiss, panting for air. Mike opens his eyes, stares up at Ryan’s flushed face, equally out of breath.

“You still kiss the same,” Ryan whispers, pleased, his eyes half-lidded. Michael flinches, looking down and away.

“Get off of me Ryan,” Michael says voice hard. Ryan frowns, leaning in close again. This time Michael’s hands stop the movement. “I’m serious. This isn’t a game. I’m a married man, Ryan. I love my wife. Cathy? Remember her? The woman I’ve been with for four years. The woman I’m trying to start a family with!” he growls. This time it’s Ryan flinching. He sits back, shifting his weight to sit on Mike’s knees.

“Don’t be like this,” Ryan whispers, his hands coming to rest on his own thighs.

“I won’t do this,” Mike whispers. “I won’t betray her. I won’t be my father,” Mike says, pushing Ryan off his lap and to the side. Ryan goes reluctantly. Mike sits forward, bracing his arms on his knees, running his hands up into his hair.

You back up a few steps, coming into the room a second time. You let your bare feet slap against the tiles, and rub at your eyes sleepily. Both their heads swivel in your direction and Michael jumps to his feet, looking flushed and guilty. You smile at them both.

“Hey,” you say coming further into the room. Ryan turns his head away, sinking into the couch cushions, unable to look at you. You turn to look at Mike. “It’s late. I wanted to make sure you guys were set before I went to bed.” Mike smiles at you, the expression twisted and sad.

“You’re going to bed?” he asks. You nod, keeping your face tired but happy.

“It’s almost midnight, Mike. You know what a wuss I am and you’ve got early practice in the morning,” you pause then. “But I bet Bob wouldn’t mind if you wanted to skip it. Ryan doesn’t get to visit very often.” Mike shakes his head.

“No, we have to get Tim ready for Olympic Trials. I can’t miss practice in the morning,” Mike says. He looks at Ryan. “You know where the guest room is, right Ry?” he asks. Ryan nods, clearing his throat.

“Of course! That room really should be renamed Ryan Lochte’s Super Awesome Bedroom, I stay here so often,” he says cheerfully. You smile laughing a little.

“I was thinking along those same lines. I found something when we were out shopping a few weekends ago to replace that awful painting over the bed. I think you’re gonna like it,” you tease. He sits up a little.

“What’dya get me, Cathy?” he asks. You grin.

“Go check it out,” you laugh, pointing over your shoulder. He jumps off the couch and bounds up the stairs two at a time. You turn your attention to Michael. He’s got his arms crossed over his stomach, his shoulders hunched. You walk toward him, reaching out to touch his arm. “Ready for bed?” you ask. He nods.

“I just gotta lock up, make sure the alarms set,” he says, avoiding your eyes. You smile at him standing on tip-toe to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll see you in a few,” you say, turning to the dogs dozing in their shared dog bed, as Michael heads in the direction of the front door. “You guys coming?” you ask the dogs. Herman raises his head, looks at you a moment, and lets it fall back to rest on Barbie’s long back. He closes his eyes. You laugh at him shaking your head, walking over you give them both a scratch. “Night guys,” you say standing up and heading for the stairs.

Ryan’s waiting at the top of the stairs leaning in the doorway of the guest room. He smiles at you, looking relaxed and happy.

“Thank you, Cathy. It’s awesome!” he says, walking backward into the room.

You grin stepping into the room after him. You smile at the Gators poster framed above the bed.

“We found it at a garage sale. Can you believe someone was going to throw it out?” you ask. He looks shocked.

“Why would they do that?” he asks looking offended. You shrug your shoulders.

“I only talked to the girl for a minute. It was her boyfriends. Apparently he cheated on her with her best friend. She was selling a bunch of his stuff that day. Mike picked up a great set of cuff links and a new Ravens hat he didn’t already have,” you explain. His face goes slightly pale at the mention of cheating, and he sits down on the bed. “You ok, Lochte?” you ask. He puts a smile on his face and looks up at you.

“Not really. But I think I will be,” he says. You nod, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“You know you’re welcome in our house anytime,” you say, emphasizing the ‘our’ a bit more than necessary. He tenses and nods.

“Of course. Goodnight, Cathy,” he says, pulling his t-shirt off and scrubbing a hand through his curls.

“Goodnight, Ryan,” you reply, leaving his room and closing the door behind you. You find Michael standing at the top of the stairs, his face in shadow. “Doors locked?” you ask. He nods, taking your hand in his and leading you down the hall to your bedroom, closing the door behind you both. “Michael, what’s wrong?” you ask. He doesn’t answer. Instead he paces back and forth, his long strides crossing the room quickly. You watch him for a minute. When he still doesn’t answer, you go to your dresser and pull out a night gown. His arms come around your waist, stilling your movement. You look at his reflection in the mirror above the dresser. His face is pained, his brow furrowed. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. You smile a little. “Mike?” you prompt.

“Something happened,” he whispers. You pull his arms tighter around your middle, and turn around to face him. Your hands cradle his face, bringing it up so his eyes meet yours.

“Just tell me. You can tell me anything,” you promise.

“Ryan kissed me, and I kissed him back,” he whispers. You don’t know how to react to his just blurting it out like that.

“Oh... I know,” you say, spinning out of his arms and walking toward the bathroom.

“Cathy?” he calls after you confused, following behind you as you rinse your toothbrush to get it wet and squirt on some toothpaste.

“I saw you,” you say. You smile at him in the mirror and stick the toothbrush in your mouth.

“You saw?” he asks. You nod, brushing away at your teeth. He steps up beside you. “Cathy?” he says softly. You bend over and spit.

“I saw. I saw him kissing you. I saw you push him away,” you shrug again, and go back to brushing. His brow furrows again.

“You’re not angry?” he asks in disbelief. You spit a second time, filling a cup with water and rinsing your mouth and brush free of toothpaste. Then you turn to look at him, standing close despite the bathroom’s super size.

“I wouldn’t say angry,” you offer, running your hands up his bare arms. His hands cup your face.

“Talk to me. I’m trying to be honest with you. I don’t want secrets between us.” You know this about him. That his greatest fear is that he’ll turn out like his dad. Hurting his wife, and abandoning his kids. That being an asshole is somehow genetic and transferred solely through the Y chromosome.

“I was shocked,” you explain. “Who expects to go downstairs and find their husband making out with his best-friend? His ex-fuck-buddy best-friend?” You stop then, taking a deep breath. You’ve known for a long time about the history between Michael and Ryan. About the triangle that used to exist between Michael, and Ryan, and Kyle. About how distance, and history, and competition had made Kyle the easier choice for Ryan, and how the whole thing had ended up with Ryan and Michael not speaking for nearly a year. It was only a year or two before you came along that the 2012 Olympic Trials had brought the two back together as friends once more. “There’s history there. I know that. I’m not mad if you still have feelings for him…” you trail off, not wanting to go on.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did,” his voice is ashamed, sad. You nod.

“I understand. He can be awfully cute when he pouts, and with the problems with Kyle...” you shake your head. “You kissed him back. I’m not exactly happy about that. But you stopped it after that. You told him ‘no.’ You chose me,” you say, winding your arms around his waist. “Brush your teeth and get ready for bed, Michael. We have an early start tomorrow.” He nods, looking confused, as if he’s not sure if the discussion is over or not.

You return to your shared bedroom, changing into a nightgown, and climbing into the big bed. Michael comes out a few minutes later. He changes out of his jeans and into a pair of pajama bottoms, switching his t-shirt for an older one that’s too big for him and fraying at the edges. He climbs into bed beside you, turning to face you, and pulling the blankets up high to ward off the winter chill. You snuggle into his front, wrapping you arm around his middle, your hand wiggling up under the back of his t-shirt. He’s like a human furnace, and he warms you quickly. You squirm closer, and his arms fold around you, pulling you against his body, and holding you close.

“You can be mad at me if you want to be,” he says quietly. “I’d completely deserve it. I just don’t want to go to sleep with you still mad at me. We need to talk about it first.” He says this decisively. You smile into his neck.

“I told you, Mike. I’m not mad at you.” You lean your head back to look up at him. He’s squinting down at you in the half-darkness, his face pensive. You stretch up to press your mouth to his. He kisses you back hesitantly, his arms tightening around your middle, big hands nearly covering your entire back. You break the kiss first. You always break the kiss first, not having the lung capacity he does. You peck him on the lips quickly, and wiggle up the bed, so your faces are even on the pillow. “You’re attracted to him.” You say it simply, not as an accusation. He closes his eyes, unable to meet your gaze. You pinch his back making him squirm and open his eyes again. “I don’t blame you. He’s very handsome. And nothing in our marriage vows says you can’t find someone else attractive. You know about my feelings for Johnny Depp,” you tease. He grins a little.

“I think everyone who knows us knows about your Johnny Depp obsession. It’s why I will never knowingly take you to a party where he is invited,” he teases right back. You smack him lightly on the hip, where his pajama bottoms are riding as low as his Speedos usually sit. He laughs.

“That is so mean!” you argue. He grins, one hand coming up to comb through your hair. “Anyway, the point is… that I have no right to be mad that you find Ryan hot. Especially not when I find him hot too!” he seems to freeze at that, and his eyes focus more intently on your own. “What? He is! All that blonde hair, and hazel-blue eyes, and tan skin. The boy is as allergic to clothes as you are in the summer time. And I’ve seen him in the water. He’s poetry in motion. A lot of what I find physically attractive about you, is mirrored in him too,” you stop talking there at the shock on his face. “He’s cute, but not really my type. I’m just saying I’m not mad that you’re attracted to an admittedly pretty hot guy who shares your interests, and who used to be your sort-of-boyfriend.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Then how do you feel about it?” he asks. He buries one hand in the loose curls at the back of your neck, pulling them back off of your shoulder. “You keep saying you’re not mad or not happy. What are you feeling?” he asks. There’s a silence while you contemplate how best to answer, and how honest is too honest to be. He frowns at you. “Just talk to me,” he whispers. It’s the look in his big brown eyes that gets you talking. He looks so sincere, so sad that you just can’t not tell him.

“Excited,” you blurt out. The shock spreads across his face quickly.

“What?” he asks. You sigh, a blush blooming across your face. You duck your head, biting your lips. You close your eyes, unable to answer. You picture what you saw earlier: Michael pressed back into the couch cushions. Ryan, bigger and stronger than you could ever hope to be, on top of him, holding him there. The two of them flushed and panting, both of them visibly excited. You remember the sound of their mouths moving together. The way they had shifted and moved together, hips pressed together tightly, touching each other just the right way to make it good. You have no doubt that it could have gone farther, it would have continued, if Michael hadn’t thought of you and stopped it when he had.

You don’t realize you’re panting and that you’re heart rate has sped up until Michael guides your face back up to his own. You blink your eyes open coming back to reality. He presses his forehead to your own, a smile spreading across his face. His hand is still buried in your hair, his wrist pressed to your neck, and you know he can feel your blood pounding there. He looks amused.

“Excited, huh?” he asks. You nod a little, licking your lips, and pressing your body closer to his. It’s one quick move from Michael, and he’s suddenly on top of you, straddling your thighs, and balancing his body weight on one hand above your head. He uses the hand still in your hair to pull your head up until your lips meet his. His mouth is warm and wet and aggressive. It feels like he could swallow you whole. You rake your hands up his long back, pulling at his t-shirt, and rock your hips up against his.

It doesn’t take long for you both to get undressed. You strip his t-shirt off over his head, and push down his already low-hanging pajama bottoms. He backs off your mouth to strip off your nightgown, and to pull off your underwear, and when he returns he’s between your thighs his mouth tracing down your neck and stopping to explore your chest.

“What excited you about it?” he asks, mouthing your clavicle, and fondling one breast. You spread your legs wider, letting his pelvis settle down further against your own.

“You’re both so beautiful,” you whisper, voice halting between panted breaths. “You’re both big and strong and male. And when he pressed you into the couch... I… I could never do that to you Michael. I’m not strong enough. I’m too small. And you liked it. I could see that you liked it.” He pauses in his sucking of your nipple to look up at you. His eyes are bright and his face is flushed. You know you’re probably as red as a lobster by now. “I can’t give you that. I can’t be that for you,” you say, feeling sudden tears flood your eyes. “I don’t have it in me to be tough or strong like that. Not with you. Is that something that’s missing between us? Is that something you need that I can’t give you?” you ask, voice hitching with emotion.

“No, Cathy. Nothing’s missing between us!” he protests. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I don’t need that from you or anyone else. It’s just something…” he trails off moving further up your body to press his forehead to yours again. “It’s just a turn on. It’s something I like. But it’s not something I need, or crave, or long for. You give me everything I could ever need,” he explains.

“But you do still love him, don’t you?” you ask, feeling tears falling down your cheeks. Your forehead creases and you reach up to wipe at your tears. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Crying over this. You know Michael. You know he loves you, and he wants you, and he’d never cheat on you. Tonight has proven all of that to you, but you feel so suddenly insecure, and you can’t hide that from Michael. He’s always been able to see it when you feel insecure with him. From the first kiss, to the first time you made love. He was beautiful, still in elite swimmer shape, and there you were, dumpy and frumpy, and 20 pounds overweight, with a bag full of books on your shoulder and dog named Barbie and he’d wanted you. Loved you. He’d made you feel beautiful. And now you can’t help but compare yourself to Ryan. To tall beautiful tan Ryan. Ryan with the golden curls, and the clear hazel-blue eyes, and the career as a model. A model for God’s sake. Ryan, who even now eight years post London2012 still looks fit, and beautiful. And understands about the pool, and competition, and the Olympics in a way you will never be able to because you didn’t live it. You’ve never competing for anything but good grades, and the few jobs you’ve had.

Michael sighs, sitting up on his knees, and pulling you up into his lap, his arms closing around you.

“He’s Ryan. He’s fun, and energetic, and my best friend in the entire world. I’ve known him since I was just a kid, and we’ve always had a connection. But, Cathy, he’s my past. I loved him, and he chose Kyle. He’s still all of the things I was attracted too, but I’ve got these blinders on now. All I see is you!” he protests. “You’re my life. You and our family. I’m not thinking about him when I’m with you, and I’d never go behind your back. I love you!” he says and you believe him.

You press your mouth to his, suddenly frantic for him, your hands scratching across his back. He gasps and clutches you closer, laying you back on the bed, and re-hardening against your thigh. It’s only a minute or two before he’s inside you, sliding deep, and rocking just right to make you cry out and squirm against him. Your legs curl around his waist, pulling him closer with each thrust. You bury your face in his long neck, one hand sliding up into his thick dark hair. You pant against his ear, letting out a little whine when he hits the perfect spot. He chuckles, and you pull back to look up into his face. He looks down at you, face sweaty and flushed, eyes dark with want. He brings one hand up to your face, the other braced beside your right shoulder on the mattress. He touches your cheek, slides his hand back into the sweaty tangle of curly hair behind your ear and he smiles so brightly it makes your heart hurt.

“You’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful, Cathy. All of the time, but especially like this,” he whispers, voice hoarse. He shifts position, pulling your hips up higher, adjusting the angle, and when he thrusts in again it’s a long smooth hard stroke, that hits just right. You shout. Letting go of him with your hands you arch back against the bed. Your hands scramble across the sheets, searching for purchase. Finding nothing they go up above your head to grip the bed frame. You moan, pushing your pelvis up hard against his. With the stronger thrusts and the better angle, your pleasure arches higher and higher. Reaching your peak you cry out his name, thinking briefly that you’re glad there’s a bathroom and office between your room and Ryan’s.

Michael chuckles with satisfaction, slowing his pace, and leaning down to kiss your face. You melt into the mattress, your hands falling limply to your sides, your legs losing their grip and falling down off his slim hips. He presses close, his hips continuing to move, but at a slow leisurely pace, and you know he’s not done with you yet, and he won’t be, not for a while. You grin up at him, blinking dazed eyes up into his own.

“Good?” he asks, knowing the answer. You groan, smiling widely.

“Fantastic,” you say quietly, summoning the energy to run one hand up through his hair, lightly scraping the nails of your fingers along the back of his left ear. His breath hitches, and his hips stutter at the sensation. You know about his ears. You’ve known since near the beginning and now you take full advantage. He moans, pushing harder into you, making you gasp once more.

He picks up his pace, his swimmers stamina beginning to run its course, and leans down to leave a sucking kiss against your shoulder. You tighten around him, watching the pleasure washing across his face intensify. When he finally climaxes, he pulls you close again, sinking deep, and taking your mouth with his own. You hold him tightly, letting him cling to you in return.

 

You’re sore in the morning, and the alarm clock goes off too damn early. You hear the alarm being cut off and you blink open bleary eyes to find Michael’s face grinning down at you.

“Good morning,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You smile in return, and stretch your legs down the bed, feeling the slow burn in your thighs reminding you of last night’s activities.

“Hi,” you whisper. He gives you a closed mouth kiss, ever mindful of morning breath.

“I have to get going. Tim has early morning practice. Bring Ryan by for Lunch later?” he asks. You nod, stretching your back and shoulders out with a yawn. “Go back to sleep,” he whispers, kissing your forehead. You smile, watching him climb naked from your shared bed, scratching his own back in a way that only he can with his double jointed wrists and super long arms, before ducking into the bathroom in the predawn light. You sit up a little, pulling the sheets tighter around yourself.

“Aren’t we going to Mom’s for dinner tonight?” you call. He ducks around the bathroom door, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He thinks a moment before nodding.

“I think so. It’s the second Sunday, right?” he asks confused. You yawn again, nodding and flopping back onto the mattress. He laughs at you. “Then, yeah, we’re supposed to go to Mom’s. I’m sure neither she nor Ryan will mind his coming along.” You grin laughing a little. You know exactly how fond of Ryan Debbie is, and how mutual the affection is from Ryan’s end. Michael ducks back into the bathroom, and you lay there, drifting back toward sleep, as he brushes his teeth, showers, and shaves, and gets ready for his day. You’re only vaguely conscious when he bends down over you and presses another kiss to your mouth, tasting of mint toothpaste and mouthwash. “I’ll see you later,” he whispers. You groan, smiling a little, and turn over snuggling back into your pillow. You feel him tug the blanket back up around your side, and push your hair back off your face. “Don’t forget its Sunday,” he says softly. You think a moment before you remember. You sigh, nodding against his large hand.

“I remember,” you whisper. You hear him laugh quietly, before he presses a kiss to your cheek and finally leaves you to sleep.

 

The sun wakes you up a few hours later. You blink and groan sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Glancing at the clock you pull on your discarded nightgown from the night before and climb out of bed, heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day. It’s after 10, and you’re surprised you slept so late. You like your sleep, but this is later than usual for you. You flip the light on in the bathroom, blinking to get used to the brightness, and go to brush your teeth. Sitting on the counter, in the dead center of the expanse of black marble is the pregnancy test.

Oh right. Sunday. You sigh, picking up the box, and tearing it open. This has become a weekly ritual. Every Sunday you take one, and every Sunday you get the same result, negative. You stare at it, feeling tears come to your eyes, but fight to keep them from dropping. You’ve done enough crying in the last 24 hours, you decide. Last night’s embarrassment makes you blush. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is blotchy, eyes a little red from staying up so late the night before and the tears you’re still fighting. Your hair is a horrible mess, and you have a hickey! a hickey! on your shoulder. You’ll make Michael pay for that one later, you decide. You take the test, you’re a practiced hand at this now, and set the timer. While you wait, you decide to brush your teeth, and once done with that start to detangle your hair. The timer going off makes you jump, and you reach for the test, knowing what it will say and already feeling the usual dread building in your stomach.

PREGNANT

You blink your eyes and look again. PREGNANT. You sit down on the closed lid of the toilet and look a third time. PREGNANT. That’s when you start screaming.

You shouldn’t be surprised that Ryan comes flying into the bathroom a moment later. He’s still half asleep and wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, his hair a mess, and crease lines from his pillow are pressed into his cheek. But he looks around wildly, as if searching for the danger that’s made you scream like an banshee.

“Cathy! Are you okay?” he asks, eyes still scanning. Finding no danger, he comes to stand in front of you. You glance up at him briefly, taking in his attire or lack thereof, before looking back at the test still clutched in your hand. “Cathy?” he asks, kneeling down beside you in the bathroom. He touches your cheek. “You’re white as a sheet, what’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?” he asks. You shake your head ‘no’ still staring down at the test in your hands. “Cath?” he asks. You look up and you smile, the joy making your heart pick up its pace in your chest.

“It’s positive,” you whisper, holding up the test. He blinks at it in confusion, unsure what it is you’re talking about. “It’s positive,” you repeat. “I’m pregnant!” you say in excitement. The shock on his face quickly gives way to happiness.

“Pregnant!” he exclaims. You nod frantically. He’s hugging you tightly a moment later, picking you up off the toilet and spinning you around until you’re dizzy. “JEAH! This is fantastic!” he says, setting you down on your feet. He looks down at you, his smile blinding. “Are you sure?” he asks. You shrug your shoulders.

“It’s what the test says,” you say, some of your joy diminishing at the possibility of a faulty test. You reach for the box pulling out the second one. “There’s another. I should take it again, just to be sure. I don’t want to tell Michael, if it was a bad reading.” He nods looking solemn. You shove at him til he leaves the bathroom, and close the door behind him. When you step out a moment later, he’s sitting on the edge of your bed, waiting for you. You sit down close beside him and stare at the test sitting visible through the open door on the bathroom counter. He puts his arm around you.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Cathy. You guys would be the perfect parents. It’ll all work out!” he says squeezing you close. You nod, resting your head on his shoulder. You sigh, and the two of you sit in anticipatory silence until the timer finally buzzes in the bathroom. You sit still too afraid to move. He nudges you a little, letting you go. “Go on, no use waiting any longer.” You nod standing up and stepping slowly into the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, you pick up the test. PREGNANT. You feel your heart skip a beat, and turn around to look at him, smiling widely. He lets out a shout, and suddenly you’re being spun around in his arms again. When you start to get nauseated you make him put you down.

“I have to tell Mike. Ry, we’ve been waiting so long for this!” you say. He smiles at you.

“He’s gonna flip,” he laughs. You nod, smiling and laughing and so full of happiness you feel you could burst. You check the clock on the bedside.

“He wanted us to meet him for lunch. Go get dressed, and we’ll head over a little early,” you suggest. He nods.

“If you want to tell him without me there, I don’t mind. I can stay here and hang out with the puppies,” he offers. You shake your head.

“You’re his best friend, Ryan. The first thing he’d do is call you, after his mom of course, and make you come out to celebrate with us!” you explain. He laughs, but gives in.

“OK ok, I’ll go get dressed. Don’t, like, slip in the shower or anything,” he warned. You laugh as you go to get ready.

It’s almost an hour before you’re both ready to leave the apartment. You both have to shower and get dressed, and your hair takes forever to blow-dry, but don’t want to go out with it wet, not in January. You feed the dogs, and head out to the car, Ryan at your side, and with the two tests in your coat pocket. By the time you get to Meadowbrook, the morning practice has ended, and the lunch hour crowd has arrived, mostly adults, who like to come get some laps in during the mid-day break. You and Ryan are greeted warmly by Monica at the check-in desk, and are waved through with no fuss. This time of year, only the indoor pool is in use, and the smell of the chlorine, and the humid air hit you like a brick wall. You reel a little from it for a moment, and look at Ryan. He’s smiling and breathing deeply, like he’s finally come home. Swimmers. You shake your head in amusement, and start looking for Michael.

It takes a moment, but you finally spot his lanky form over in the far corner, near the offices. He’s standing in flip-flops, a t-shirt, and gym shorts, talking with Bob Bowman and Tim Rogers, their next big Olympic hopeful. The kids only 15, but he’s fast, a natural backstroker and they’d started stepping up his training since the last Olympics in Brazil to get him ready for larger meets. He’d done ok at Worlds last year, and now they were preparing for Olympic Trials in June. Ryan holds onto your arm as you pick your way across the wet deck. You roll your eyes at him, but don’t object. Michael lights up when he sees the two of you, handing over his clipboard to Bob, and reaching out to pull you in for a kiss. When he lets you go you smile up at him, before waving at Tim, who’s too wet to hug, and getting another warm hug from Bob. You return to Mike’s side, putting your arm around him and pressing close.

“Ready for lunch?” Michael asks you quietly, as Ryan greets Bob and Tim. You nod.

“Can we talk in your office for a minute first?” you ask. He nods, looking confused.

“Or course, what about?” he asks. You just smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him toward the door only a few feet away. You catch Ryan’s eye and he beams at you, giving you a thumbs up, before returning to Tim’s excited gibbering. You pull Michael through the door, closing it behind him. “What’s going on?” Mike asks you. You beam up at him, tugging him to sit down on the couch. You sit beside him, tugging off your coat, and turning to face him. He’s smiling, but beginning to look worried. “Cathy?” he asks. You bite your lip and look down, smiling.

“It’s Sunday,” you say quietly. He nods. “So I did what we always do on Sunday’s…” you trail off. He looks at you unsure where this is going.

“Ugh huh,” he says, still looking confused.

“Michael, I took the pregnancy test and,” you take a deep breath, and grin widely at him. “Michael, I’m pregnant!” you finally say. There’s shock on his face, and he reaches for you.

“You’re pregnant?” he asks. You nod, happy tears running down your cheeks. “You’re sure?” he asks, a smile lighting up his face.

“I took two tests, and they’re both positive. I should probably call tomorrow to go see the doctor to make absolutely sure, but yes, I think I am. I mean I’m pretty sure!” you say, grinning at him. He pulls you into his arms, and you end up sitting across his lap. You reach for your coat and pull the two tests out. He takes them from you eagerly, looking at the small digital screens. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“This is amazing! You’re amazing!” he says excitedly, his hands going around your waist. He pulls you gingerly closer, one hand going around to press gently on your tummy. “A baby?” he asks. You nod, laughing, and leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. He pulls you closer, his hand staying pressed to your abdomen, as if protecting the small life growing there, his mouth devouring yours.

 

Ryan leaves the two of you alone for 20 minutes before knocking on the door, and hesitantly sticking his head in. You’re curled against Michael’s left side, and he’s got one big hand still resting on your tummy, the other wrapped around you, holding you close. The smile that hasn’t left Michael’s face since you told him, spreads a fraction wider when he sees Ryan.

“Do you know?” he asks excitedly. Ryan laughs, coming in and closing the door behind him.

“Yeah. Congrats man! She wanted to tell you first, but when I found her in the bathroom screaming her head off, she kind of had to tell me. I mean I thought someone had like broken into the house or something.” Mike laughs in response, his head tilting back to rest against the back of the couch. You stare at the long line of his exposed throat and you’re flashing back to the night before. It’s the same profile view you had of him when you reached the bottom of the stairs. He’d been stretching his head up in just that way to press into Ryan’s kiss. A wave of heat takes you over, and you blink rapidly, smiling while they both laugh, and hoping your flushed cheeks can be mistaken for an embarrassed blush instead of arousal.

You swear Ryan to secrecy, and convince Mike not to tell anyone until you know for sure. That night you go to Debbie’s house for dinner. She of course can tell something is up, and harangues you until you give in and tell her. The shout she lets out and the height she reaches when she bounces out of her seat in the living room has you all laughing. It seems like she hugs you to her forever, before letting you go. Her smile is enormous, as she turns to pull Michael too her. You feel tears come to your eyes wondering if this is how your own mother would have reacted to the news of a grandchild on the way. You stay later than usual, answering question after question, listening to stories old and new about Debbie’s 3 pregnancies, and about what Mike was like as an infant. The impromptu celebration finally ends when you call it a night around 11pm. It’s almost midnight by the time you get back to the condo, and Ryan heads up to bed while you pack your stuff up for work in the morning, and Michael does his nightly rounds, letting the dogs out, and checking the locks and alarms. When you arrive in your bedroom, you find Mike stretched out on the bed reading a magazine, the dogs curled up on the end of the bed. You give them both a scratch and go to brush your teeth and hair, completing your nightly routine before joining your husband in bed.

Mike smiles at you, tossing his Sports Illustrated onto the bedside table and reaching out for you. You settle against him, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

“I’m so happy,” you whisper. He runs a hand through your hair.

“So am I. You’re going to the doctor to make sure?” he asks. You nod.

“Yes, I’m calling in the morning to see when Dr. Robins can get me in. It shouldn’t take that long,” you answer.

“I know it’s early, but I keep thinking about names…” he says quietly.

“It is a bit early. But we’ve talked about names before,” you counter. He shrugs.

“It just seems important to pick the perfect name. I don’t want to wait for the last minute.”

“We won’t. We can start making lists of names we like tomorrow if you want. I’d say do it tonight, but I have work tomorrow,” you explain. He nods.

“I just, don’t want to name a boy Michael Fred Phelps,” he says suddenly. You put your arm around his waist, curling closer, nudging Barbie further down the bed with your knee.

“Why not? Isn’t it tradition in your family?” you ask. He’s silent a minute before explaining.

“It is tradition. But if we name a boy Michael Fred, he’ll either have to live up to being another Michael Phelps, or be destined to be called either Junior or Fred, like my Dad, and… I don’t know. That doesn’t sit well,” he says pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nod.

“That makes sense. I had an idea for a boy actually,” you say.

“Yeah? Let’s hear it,” he says smiling. You bite your lip.

“Bradley Michael Phelps,” you whisper.

“Bradley?” he says. “Where did that come from?”

“I was just thinking about our Moms you know. I don’t think Debbie would be too happy having a girl named Deborah and my mom was Leah. I just though Bradley seemed to kind of combine the two. Bra from Deborah, and Le from Leah. It sounds good with Michael and Phelps, and it would have meaning for us, for our moms. By giving him Michael as a middle name, we’d be carrying on your family tradition in a new way…” you explain trailing off. Michael leans down catching your gaze with his own. His eyes are bright and shining a little in the dim light.

“Bradley Michael Phelps. Bradley Phelps. Brad Phelps,” he whispers. He grins at you. “I like it. I think we should go with that for now. We might think of something better later, but somehow I doubt it,” his smile widens again. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about this tonight,” he teases. You laugh and nod.

“Ok, you’re right. We have to be up soon. We’ll save picking out a girl’s name for later.” You press your mouth to his, and snuggle down under the blanket. He shuts off the light on the bedside table, and you press closer to him. Barbie makes a disgruntled sound, as you nudge her even further down the bed but you ignore her as Michael wraps one of his long legs up over yours. You lay in silence for several minutes before Herman starts to snore making both you and Michael crack up laughing once more.

 

The next morning you call your OBGYN from work while on break, and schedule an appointment for the next morning. Your supervisor Wendy lets you have the morning off despite the short notice, and you call Michael to tell him too. He insists on getting the morning off to go with you, and you let him. You want him there when you get the news either way. 24 hours later you’re there at the doctor’s office waiting to be seen, Ryan down at the pool covering for Michael and working with Tim on his backstroke turns. After your appointment you and Michael go out to lunch, and then back to work to wait for the blood test results. It’s just before the end of the work day that Dr. Robins calls you up on your cell phone to give you the news. You are in fact pregnant. You’d like to blame the tears of joy that well up in your eyes on hormones, but you think it’s probably too early for that just yet. Instead you finish up your work, and leave the minute the clock hits five, rushing to the Meadowbrook pool to tell Michael in person.

Monica waves you through as usual and you find Ryan in the swim down pool. He climbs out as soon as he sees you, smiling, and dripping water everywhere. You hand him a towel, and ask where Michael is. Ryan nods to the office in the back of the pool deck, and you smile kissing his cheek and making for the door at a fast but safe speed. Ryan shakes his head watching as you go.

You knock on the door, waiting for Michael to call for you to come in. You go inside and he greets you warmly. When you tell him the news his eyes light up with happiness, his smile blinding. Bob comes in from the next office over and Michael promptly tells him the news. You notice the look on Bob’s face as he shakes Mike’s hand and comes to hug you gently, as if you’ll break if he squeezes too tight. When he looks at Michael again you can’t help but smile. Suddenly all that stuff they spout about being strictly coach and student when Mike was young, and business partners and friends now that he’s older seems like complete bullshit. Bob is looking at your husband the way a proud dad looks at their son. You hug Bob again, tighter this time, smiling at Mike over the older man’s shoulder.

Things seem to move fast suddenly. You watch Michael call Whitney and then Hilary to tell them the news. Then the two of you collect Ryan and head over to Debbie’s for the second night in a row walking into what turns out to be a family party.

Over the next week Michael and Ryan, who has yet to leave, not that you or Michael have been pushing for him too, both become a touch over protective. They try to fetch and carry for you. They ask you how you are or if you need anything, constantly. Mostly you feel fine, no side effects or unwanted cravings. You found out so early in your pregnancy that morning sickness hasn’t even set in yet. If you didn’t know you were pregnant, you wouldn’t have any idea. But you roll your eyes and let them do as they please. You figure they’ll get tired of it soon enough, and besides any refusal to allow them to do something, or negative reaction on your part, makes you the focus of two pairs of horribly effective puppy dog eyes. They’re both deadly when they pout.

It’s not until two weeks after you find out, that morning sickness hits. Michael wakes you up one Saturday morning after getting home for an early morning training session. So far the only ‘symptom’ of pregnancy you’ve experienced is an increased level of tiredness, and you’ve taken to going to bed a little earlier, and sleeping in on the weekends. He sits down next to you on the mattress, smoothing back your hair and bending down to kiss your forehead. You blink awake smiling up at him.

“Hey,” you breathe, inhaling deeply. He’s bends closer to you his face smiling, and his hair still slightly damp from the pool. He leans closer and suddenly your stomach clenches, nausea rising quickly. You roll away from him, scrambling out of the bed, and flying for the bathroom. You barely make it to the toilet before you’re emptying your stomach into the bowl. Michael chases after you, coming to kneel beside you, one arm around your waist and the other pulling back your long hair. He winces as your body convulses again and again. When you can’t throw up anymore you collapse back against him, tears coursing down your cheeks, your body exhausted. He hands you a wet cloth, and you’re suddenly grateful for his long reach. You turn into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and letting him support your weight.

“You alright?” he asks. You start to nod, and take a deep breath to calm yourself. That’s when the sharp chemical tang of chlorine invades your nostrils and you gag again. You fling yourself away from him, dry heaving over the toilet bowl. “Cathy?” he asks, worried, and moving closer. You reach out blindly, pushing him away from you. When you can breathe again you turn to look at him, and seeing the hurt look on his face start to cry.

“I’m sorry. It’s the smell. The chlorine. I can’t stand it. You have to shower. Right now!” you plead. You watch comprehension dawn on his face and he stands quickly stripping off his clothes, and dumping them in the hamper. You watch him turn on the shower and climb in without even adjusting the temperature. With the smell gone you’re able to climb to your feet, and quickly brush your teeth. You’re sitting on the closed toilet seat lid brushing out your hair, when he climbs out of the shower, freshly scrubbed, and smelling of his Chlorine removing swimmers shampoo. You hand him a towel, watching him dry off and rub at his hair. He wraps the towel around his waist and edges closer to you slowly, as if afraid he’ll make you sick again. You pull him closer by his hips, and rest your forehead against his flat tummy. He runs a hand down the back of your head, to cradle your neck.

“Feel better?” he asks. You nod against his shower warm skin, and hold him tighter. He laughs a little. “So chlorine huh?” he asks. You nod again. “I’ll start showering before leaving to come home,” he promises. You sniffle.

“I’m sorry. This really sucks,” you pull back from him wiping your eyes. You look up at him. He’s got a resigned smile on his face.

“It’ll only be a few months,” he reasons, bending down to press a kiss to your lips. When he pulls away you nod, smiling up at him.

“I’ll miss coming to see you at the pool,” you pout. He laughs.

“Maybe I’ll come see you at the library. You can recommend me some good books on dealing with pregnancy,” he teases. You laugh in response. He pulls you to your feet. “We’ve got plenty of hot water. Take a nice warm bath or something. I’ll get dressed and go make Ryan shower too,” he suggests. You frown nodding. He kisses you again, and leaves to go get dressed. You fill the bath tub, and throwing in some bath salts, climb carefully inside. You’re relaxing against the side of the wide tub when he comes back. He smiles at you, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

“How was practice?” you ask. He smiles at you, coming to sit on the edge of the big tub.

“Good. Tim’s doing amazing. His times keep getting better and better. He’s getting used to Ryan hanging around, which is good. The kid’s hero worship was pretty amusing for the first 2 weeks, but it’s getting old,” Michael muses. You laugh.

“How’s Ryan doing?” you ask sinking lower in the water. Mike smiles.

“Better. He’s started talking to me a bit more on the drives in and back. I think the thing with Kyle’s over, but jeeze Cathy he spent like 9 years of his life with that guy,” there’s a pained look on Michael’s face and he won’t meet your eyes.

“Any idea on how long he’ll be staying with us?” you ask. He looks at you in surprise.

“We can ask him to leave if you’re tired of him. I think almost 3 weeks is a pretty good stay in someone’s guest room for one trip,” he says, but there’s a little bitterness to his voice that you don’t like.

“Of course not!” you object sitting up in the water, and splashing around a little. “I like having Ryan here! He’s funny, and sweet, and the dogs love him. You love him!” you say. Michael’s eyes meet yours and you smile softly. “I’m just worried about him. He has to make a few decisions, Mike. What about Carter? He just left him with Devon down in Florida. If it’s over with Kyle, he needs to go down there and face him, pack up his stuff and move out of that house. He has to figure out what he’s going to do with his life. If he just stays up here tagging along with you to work, and sleeping in our guest room, he’s not moving on. He’s just hiding,” you say quietly. Michael sighs nodding.

“I know. But, I like having him here,” he says. You grin.

“So do I, and there’s nothing that says he can’t move up here, or at least come back to visit. I’m sure he’s being a great help with Tim, isn’t he?” you ask. He nods smiling.

“He’s spent just a few days working with him on his flip turn and it’s 100 times better already,” Michael says. You smile at him.

“See, you’ll make a coach out of him yet,” you laugh. Michael shakes his head, his smile wide. He checks his watch.

“Alright, you relax a little. Ryan should be done by now. We’ll get the house de-chlorinated and then we’ll go out for lunch,” he stands up. You nod. He tells you to plug your nose, and you do as you’re told, watching him open the hamper, and gather up the clothes inside, taking them with him as he goes.

You stay in the bath until the water starts to chill before finally climbing out, drying off, and getting ready to go. You’ve just finished your hair and make-up when there’s a knock on the bedroom door. You call out that it’s open, seeing Ryan step inside hesitantly. You smile at Ryan through the open bathroom door.

“Hey,” you say. He eases closer, looking concerned.

“Morning sickness?” he asks. You shrug.

“Not how I wanted to start my morning I assure you,” you say, flipping out the light, and stepping out into the bedroom. He leans closer.

“Do I pass the sniff test?” he asks, presenting his neck. You lean a little, sniffing his long neck. Nothing but shower gel, the same brand of shampoo Mike uses, and the scent that’s uniquely Ryan greets you. You pull back smiling.

“You’ll do!” you proclaim. He laughs, his eyes bright with amusement.

“Well Mike and I did a sweep of the house. All swim suits, goggles, kick boards, fins, paddles, caps, buoys, and various other types of swimming paraphernalia have been collected and stored down in the garage,” he informs you. You frown pursing your lips a little.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a hug. He tugs you close and rubs your back.

“No problem,” he says. You pull back from him, sitting down on the bed to pull on and lace up your ankle boots. “So where are we going to lunch?” he asks. You smile.

“I’m not sure. I was thinking Italian earlier, but I think now I might want to start with something blander,” you answer. He shrugs in reply.

“That makes sense to me. I’d hate to see you start barfing all over the restaurant. That might put a crimp in some of the other diner’s days,” he watches you fight to contain your giggles, laughing right along with you when you can’t contain them any longer.

 

Ryan announces he’s flying back to Florida a few days later. He thanks you both for letting him stay for so long, and says he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. The house seems different once he’s gone. The house is quieter. Less loud music playing, less debates about football or which rap song is better. Mike’s less. Not less happy, or loving or enthusiastic, but still less. Diminished somehow with Ryan gone. You wake up every morning with Michael lying beside you, or kissing you goodbye as he leaves, alone, to go to the pool, and you know once he’s gone you’ll be alone too. Ryan won’t be there to share a bowl of cereal with, to argue over the best way to make quesadillas, or to take you shoe shopping. God did you love the shoe shopping. You’d bought 10 new pairs in just the few weeks he was staying with you. It only takes you a few days to start to really miss him.

So when he’s back a few long weeks later, slightly tanner and smiling more, you don’t want him to leave, not for a long length of time at any rate. The trip you think was good for him. He moves into the guest room, temporarily he says, unsure of his future plans. Baltimore is closer to NYC, he reasons, which his good for his work with Speedo who he is helping to design a new line of swimwear. He talks about helping out Bob and Mike with Tim, energetic about the idea of coaching the next great American backstroker. He has a few swim clinics in the works. One in Chicago, another in LA, a third up in New York City. He mentions needing some time away from Florida, which you know is really a need for time as far away from Kyle as he can get. Carter fits right in with your little household, snuggling up with Barbie and Herman. The three are an odd looking trio. Herman, a tubby little bulldog, Barbie, a long bodied brown coated dachshund, and Carter, a big black floppy eared Doberman Pinscher, towering over both of them. The three chase each other around, share each other’s chew toys, and curl up together at night to ward off the chill. Once Ryan’s fully settled in for a long stay it feels like he never left.


	2. Second Time

Second Time

It’s March by then, and still bitter cold, winter seeming to take forever to give way to Spring. An unexpected ice storm hits late on a Friday night, and a nearby tree falls over, taking out the power supply to the entire building. The roads are too bad for you all to head out to Debbie’s so you three bunker down for a chilly night. It’s hard to sleep with the house so cold, but Michael’s warm, and there’s a fireplace in your bedroom. He gets the fire going nice and high, piling extra blankets on your bed, and sends Ryan to sleep in the guest room wearing 2 pairs of sweat pants and a sweater covered by a fleece pullover. You pull the dog cushion over next to the fire, and watch all three puppies snuggle up on it as close to the fire as possible without being burned. You snuggle into Michael, never before so happy to be married to a human furnace. Michael tucks the blankets in around you, and doesn’t bitch too much about your cold feet, and frozen nose. He tells you to sleep, but you can’t. All you can think about is poor Ryan all alone down the hallway. About his thin Floridian blood and probably blue lips. You picture him shivering in bed, longing for Florida sunshine, and maybe for Kyle.

“Michael?” you prompt.

“Mhmm?” he asks, half asleep. You stick your cold nose into his neck to feel him jump. He glares at you a little, but he doesn’t really mean it. “What’s wrong? I know it’s cold. But there’s nothing I can do about it.” You smile at him.

“You think Ryan’s ok?” you ask. He sighs.

“No he’s probably freezing his ass off. But aren’t we all?” he teases. You smack him in the hip under the blanket.

“I’m worried about him,” you whisper.

“I can’t fix the heat, Cathy. I’m not an electrician,” he grouses. You roll your eyes.

“No, but you are a human space heater. I think he should sleep in here tonight,” you offer. Michael pulls back to look at you in confusion. You smile. “It’s cold, and he’s alone. I don’t want him getting frostbite and losing some toes. That would definitely affect his dolphin kick.” Your voice is teasing. Michael sighs, rolling onto his back.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Cathy. You know how things are. Nothing’s happened since that first night back in January. But this could complicate things,” he says softly. You smile, pressing your lips to his chin.

“I think things are already complicated. You’re in love with him, and I’m fairly sure he’s in love with you. I think…” you pause. “I think I’m ok with that.” You whisper. “Just go get him will you?” you ask. He looks at you a moment in the light provided by the fireplace before nodding, and easing out from under the covers and hurrying from the room. He’s scrambling back under the covers a few minutes later, Ryan creeping slowly into the room, the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his head, and two blankets wrapped around him. He looks worried.

“Cathy?” he questions, voice shaking with cold. “You ok? Michael said you wanted to see me?” he asks. You roll your eyes and smack Michael in the back of the head. He grins at you, curling against your side again, and you sigh at his warmth.

“Yeah, Sweetie,” you call to Ryan. “I’m worried about you. It’s so cold. I want you to sleep in here tonight, with us.” Ryan blinks at you in confusion.

“In here?” he asks. You smile, reaching around Michael to hold up the covers.

“Come on. Body heat. Mike’s a natural space heater. You’ll be toasty warm in no time,” you promise. Ryan shrugs, and climbs up into the bed, peeling off one layer of clothing, and throwing his blankets on top of the pile covering you and Michael. You let the blankets go, watching him curl up under the covers, while staying as far away as he could get from Michael without falling out of the bed. “Come on, Ryan, don’t be a prude,” you say teasing. “He’s really warm!” you tempt. You hear Ryan sigh and shift, and Michael freezes against you, as Ryan presses close, his arm sliding around Michael’s waist, his head coming to rest behind Michael’s on the pillow. Ryan lets out a little moan of appreciation.

“Cathy, this is the best idea ever,” he whispers. Your eyes go to Michael’s. He’s staring at you with wide eyes, his jaw going slack at the feel of Ryan pressed all down his back. His arm curls around you tighter, pulling you closer to his front. The feel of Ryan’s icy fingers against your wrist makes you jump.

“Jeeze, Ryan, your fingers are like icicles!” you complain. He winces.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. You laugh. Gripping his hand, you warm it between your own, rubbing it between your palms to heat it up. You look at Michael’s face again. His eyes are closed, and he’s being strangely quiet. You shift your legs, and that’s when you feel Michael’s erection pressed to your thigh. Your breath catches in your throat and his eyes fly open to meet your own. You smile wickedly.

“Here, honey, I know how to warm them up faster,” you whisper, your voice low with arousal. You tug up Michael’s sweat shirt, and untie his sweat pants cord, sliding Ryan’s hand down inside. Michael jumps, making a breathless aching sound. Ryan jerks behind him.

“Umm, Cathy?” he asks nervously. You smile at Michael.

“Mhmm?” you reply,

“Wha?” Ryan trails off as if unsure what he should be asking. You lick your lips.

“You’re in love with my husband,” you say, you voice matter-of-fact and nonjudgmental. Ryan tenses, and tries to pull his hand back. Your grip on his wrist tightens, and Michael lets out a choked sound that makes your blood heat. “He’s in love with you,” you continue. “He wants you,” you whisper. You pause before speaking again. “Tell him Michael,” you say voice pleading. Michael nods letting out a defeated sound.

“She knows,” he whispers. “Ryan she knows everything.” There’s a minute where nothing happens.

“Everything?” Ryan asks quietly, sounding pained. Michael nods.

“She knows about before, when we were younger. And she knows about that night in January.” Michael’s confession is solemn, and he seems unsure of the coming response. You barely breathe waiting for a reaction. Ryan flexes his hand in your grip and you pull your hand reluctantly away, but Ryan’s hand stays. You feel the bed shift, as he presses closer against Michael’s back, his hand pushing further under Michael’s sweats. Michael grunts, his hand tightening in the back of your pajama top. Ryan shifts again, pushing himself up on an elbow so as to see your face in the dim light. Michael turns his face further into the pillow embarrassed. You look over at Ryan, who’s staring at you with wide eyes.

“What is this? What are we doing here? How can you be ok with this?” he asks. You pause before answering, never having seen his face so serious before.

“I love him, and he loves me, but he loves you too. You’re a good man, Ryan. You aren’t going to try and destroy my marriage or steal my husband away. So why can’t I let you have this? Let you both be together like this? It isn’t a secret. It’s not behind my back. It’s serious but not all encompassing. Its love and friendship and pleasure. You have my blessing.” You watch his face as he listens to your explanation. You see emotions flashing behind his eyes. Disbelief, and hope, and lust, but also love. You wait for him to say something in response but he stays quiet. You hold your breath, your hand going to Michael’s left arm where it’s wrapped around you. You feel his hand release your pajamas. He pulls his arm back, his hand catching your own, and his fingers lacing through yours. He sighs moving away from Ryan, rolling onto his back between the two of you. He pulls Ryan’s hand out of his pants but doesn’t let him take it back.

“Ryan?” Michael whispers, turning his head to look at Ryan. You look at Ryan, now pressed to Michael’s other side, his expression conflicted, and his hair mussed. Ryan stars down at Michael. “Ryan, I still love you,” Michael says quietly. “I never stopped.” Ryan’s face seems to crumple, and for a moment you think he’s going to cry, something you’ve never seen him do, not in person. But tears don’t fall from his eyes. He lowers his head, resting his forehead on Michael’s shoulder and his chest heaves once before he’s picking his head up and surging closer, pressing his mouth to Michael’s.

The kiss is demanding, and hard, much more aggressive than the kiss you’d witnessed 2 months before. Ryan wrenches his hand out of Michael’s grip, and moves to brace himself over Michael’s hips, straddling him in only a few seconds. You squeeze Michael’s hand once, before slowly letting go, pulling your hand out from between them. Ryan catches your wrist in a firm grip, and you turn to look at him. He breaks the kiss, lips red and shiny with saliva. He turns to look at you, and reaches for Michael’s right hand. He lifts it pushing it flat to the pillow that’s wedged under Michael’s head. He presses your hand into it, curling Michael’s fingers around your own. He doesn’t look away from you his blue eyes blazing in the light of the fire. You nod, and he lets go of your now joined hands, bracing himself against the mattress once more, and pressing his body down against Michael’s long torso.

Michael opens to the kiss as soon as Ryan turns his attention back to him. There’s a flush in Michael’s cheeks, and he pants for air between kisses that go on for so long you can’t believe their brains haven’t shut down from lack of oxygen. You lay close, not touching either of them but where your hand is gripped in Michael’s. You watch as sweaters and sweat shirts, t-shirts, and fleeces are shed one after another until they’re pressed chest to chest and skin to skin. Your hand is quickly recaptured and held after the final piece of clothing had been removed, and you don’t fight the connection. Michael, you think, probably needs the reminder you’re here. That this is allowed. That it’s not hurting you, or betraying you for him to like it, to want it.

Ryan makes love just like you’ve been imaging he would for the past 8 weeks. He’s not afraid to nip and bite, to tug on Michael’s hair, or grip his hips. He yanks Michael’s sweat pants off and repositions him, like it’s nothing to move all 210 pounds of him around whichever way he chooses. He’s hard but not mean, forceful but not cruel. He’s passionate, and he takes what he wants. You watch in open mouthed awe as he tears open one of the few condoms still floating around in the night stand drawer, a leftover memento from you pre-we-want-a-baby-now days, rolling it down his erection. He spits into his own hand, slipping first two than three fingers inside of Michael to stretch and prepare him.

You try not to stare at Ryan, it’s really not your place, but you’re distracted by him, by the differences and the similarities between him and your husband. Both of them are still in fairly good shape. Muscles not quite as defined as they used to be, but both of them better than average. They both still swim routinely, and take too much pride in their appearance to let themselves go completely. They’re so similar, with their wide shoulders and still firm muscles, but also very different. Where Michael has the typical mid-winter paleness of a Baltimore native, Ryan is still sporting his Florida tan, reinforced by good genes, and the recent trip back South. He’s golden and freckled, his body hair blonder but more abundant than the smattering on Michael’s chest and across his stomach. His torso is shorter and his legs stockier. He’s shorter all around really, even his dick is shorter than Michael’s but it’s also thicker.

You watch him press inside your husband, watch Mike grimace at the invasion, clutching your hand, and letting out a low groan. Ryan laughs at the sound, pressing in further, until his hips are flush to Michael’s. Mike’s legs pulled up and wide apart to give him room.

“OK?” Ryan whispers, voice strained. Michael nods, and you squeeze his hand. Michael turns to look at you. You know he can probably see your arousal. He knows how it looks on you, the flushed skin, bitten lips, the stutter in your breathing. He smiles, tugging on your hand, and you press close to him, leaning down to let him kiss you. He sucks at your tongue, devouring your mouth, the kiss going on and on until you pull away panting for air. You lean away, your eyes sliding down their connected bodies, and up to Ryan’s face. He’s smirking at you, his eyes dancing with delight. You flush an even deeper shade of red, and wipe at your mouth clumsily. He smiles, pulling his hips back and rolling them quickly forward once more. Mike lets out a small shocked noise, and you both turn to look at him. He’s got his eyes closed, his left hand up over his face, hiding him from your view. He’s embarrassed you realize. Ryan shoves the hand away, bending down to recapture Michael’s mouth with his own, his hips starting up an aggressive and deliberate rhythm. He shifts his hips, changing the angle and breaking the kiss. Michael keens. The sound is so unlike any you’ve heard from him before that you gasp. Ryan smirks

“That’s the spot,” he whispers, voice lower than before. “Just like you remember, eh, Mike?” he asks. Michael sighs, his free hand sliding up to grip Ryan’s back. He nods.

“Yes… yes…” he gasps, fighting for air. Ryan shifts position again, and this time when he presses in again, Michael’s entire back arches, his breathing stopping as he tenses up. Ryan laughs, stopping his rhythm completely. Michael lets out a frustrated whine and Ryan turns to look at you.

“He’s sounds so good when you get just the right angle,” he tells you, his tone conversational. You smile, looking back down at your husband, who lies there, one hand clenched tightly in yours, and the other gripping Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan bends down pressing a kiss to Michael’s slack lips. “I missed you,” he whispers. Michael blinks his eyes open, the expression on his face softening.

“Ryan… I love you,” he says. Ryan closes his own eyes, unsure how to respond.

“I love you too, Mike,” he says quietly. He grins after he says it, as if he’s surprised himself by saying the words out loud. They stare at each other for a moment until Michael shifts his hips, making Ryan let out a little groan. You smile, leaning up to whisper in Ryan’s ear.

“Fuck him, Ryan. It’s been 8 years,” you say. His breathing hitches a little in surprise. He turns to look at you. You grin. “8 years of wanting it. Suppressing it. Fuck him, Ryan. You’re the only one who can. The only one who’s allowed. Do it for me, because I can’t,” you whisper. And he does.

You lean back, wanting to just watch, turned on, and sweating under the layers of covers. You clench your thighs, one hand held fast in Michael’s in an ever tightening grip, a lifeline he can’t let go of. Your other hand slides inside your pajama pants and beneath your underwear. You touch yourself and watch as your husband is fucked by his best friend. You watch Ryan take what he wants, and Michael surrender to it. He’s different with Ryan. He lets go, he lets himself just feel, and allows Ryan to take control. With you Michael is almost always in control, and even when he’s not, the power is granted to you on condition. He’ll roll onto his back and let you ride him, let you set the pace and take your pleasure. But there’s always the reassurance of his hands on your hips, his eyes on your face. He can take it back at any time. You can’t count the number of times such a session of lovemaking has ended with you orgasming and him rolling you over onto your back, retaking control to have his own release. This is different. Michael’s laid bare, pliant under Ryan’s body. He’s completely relaxed, except for the hand clutching yours. He’s more vocal, groaning and grunting and moaning.

You touch yourself and you watch Michael come undone under Ryan’s hands and mouth and cock.

The ending is quick, Michael coming with a loud groan all over Ryan’s fist, and Ryan following a few thrusts later. They pull apart slowly, their kisses slowing, gentling, Ryan slides free, turning his attention to the condom, and then curling up against Michael’s other side. They’re winded, sweaty, and flushed, but smiling, a tension you’d barely noticed before gone from them both.

Michael lays still, his chest heaving, his eyes staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance there in the firelight. You stare at him a moment, wanting to speak, but not having any idea what to say. Movement makes you turn to look to the other side of the bed. Ryan’s propped up on his elbow, watching you across Michael’s chest. You feel closer to him all of the sudden. He hasn’t touched you, and you don’t particularly want him too. But it’s intimate watching someone make love, especially from just a few inches away. Your bed is big but not that big. You feel like you know him better now. He loves Michael for a lot of the same reasons you do. He trusted you both enough to do this, and you know he didn’t take it lightly, that he knows that this was important. He reaches for you, and you don’t know how to react. His touch isn’t sexual, but it’s caring as he cradles the side of your face in one calloused palm. He pushes your hair back off your shoulder, and leaning closer he presses his lips to your bare forehead.

“Thank you, Catherine,” he says softly. You blush, turning your face further into the pillow as he pulls away. You close your eyes suddenly embarrassed though you don’t know why. You sigh, your legs clenching together to relieve the ache between them. When you hear whispered words being exchanged, you don’t react, not until the bed shifts, and you feel someone get up. You sit up a little, your eyes flying open. Ryan stands next to the bed shirtless, but wearing sweat pants again. He’s scrambling across the room to the fire. You relax when you see him adding 2 more logs to the top. Carter picks his head up from the puppy pile he’s ensconced in and Ryan stops to give his smooth head a pet before coming back to the warmth of the bed. You feel a tugging at your hand and you turn back to Michael. He’s pulling at your clenched hand. Thinking he wants his fingers back you open your own, but his fingers tighten on yours. He pulls again and you look at his face. He’s looking directly at you. It’s the way he looks at you when he wants you, when he wants to make love to you. Your face heats again and he smiles in response.

“Cathy,” he says, voice low. Your breath catches in your throat. The bed dips again as Ryan climbs in, but you barely notice. Michael tugs on your hand, and you lay back down, pressing closer. He rolls up onto his side and reaches for you. You let him pull you in; his mouth taking yours once more. You sigh, and relax against him. He tastes different, you think. Like himself still, but different. Like Ryan you realize. Your breath stutters into another gasp and Michael laughs his mouth leaving yours, and traveling down your chin to that place on your neck that makes your knees go weak. He feels your body shudder, and nips at your earlobe. You pull him closer, pulling your hand from his, to wrap your arms around his bare shoulders. Michael, you suddenly realize is still naked, and your hips move involuntarily against his. His hands slide up beneath the back of your flannel pajama top. They’re warm and you sink into him as he takes your mouth again.

He breaks the kiss, tugging at the bottom of your top, pulling it up to expose your stomach. You tense against him, and he stops leaning back to look at you.

“What?” he whispers, cupping the back of your head. Your eyes briefly flicker in Ryan’s direction and back to Michael.

“It’s cold,” you whisper. He smiles a little and you know he understands, just like he always understands.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he promises. He tugs at your pants and panties, and you help him pull them off. When he goes for your shirt again, you hesitate only a second before letting him pull it off too. His body covers yours immediately, and with the low light, and the blanket covering you both, you know Ryan can’t possibly see any part of you but your face. You run your hands up Michael’s back, his face hovering above yours. He’s so warm the remaining tenseness melts out of your muscles. He smiles down at you. “Better?” he asks. You nod, smiling back.

“Can you be my blanket every night?” you ask. He laughs.

“Aren’t I always? Besides, you say that now, but come August, you’ll be shoving me away from you and complaining about how hot I am laying against you at night,” he teases. You grin, giggling a little. You shake your head.

“August is a long way off,” you whisper. You lean up, craning your neck and kissing him. He rocks his hips, and your thighs spread of their own accord, making room from for him to lay flush against you. He uses his left hand to steady your hips, changing their angle just slightly, and in one slow thrust he slides inside of you. “Oh,” you whisper, breathing shallowly.

“Yeah?” he says questioningly. You nod, pulling your thighs up, and bending your knees. He sinks deeper and you let out a little moan. He braces his body weight above you, as if afraid of squashing you, and when he rocks his hips, he’s gentle. You squirm as he sets a slow pace, gentle and careful, and rubbing against your clit just right to make it pleasurable. His rhythm is long, and even, and deep. Every few thrusts it hitches just a little, and you clench around him. It happens three times before you catch on. You tighten your legs around him, letting out a laugh, one hand coming up to smack him in the back of his head.

“Stop counting strokes, Michael!” you admonish. He looks at you in surprise. You laugh again. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” you ask. He grins, pressing his face to the side of your neck. You drag your nails through his hair and he groans.

“Ok. Ok!” he laughs, shifting position. When he thrusts again it’s deeper, and a touch rougher, and it sends your blood surging. You gasp, biting your lip, and run your hands along his sides and down over his flat behind. You hear a low appreciative sound from your left and are forcibly reminded of Ryan’s presence. You turn your head to look, your eyes meeting his. He smiles at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling up just a bit. He’s stretched out on his side, head balanced on one palm, supported by his elbow planted in the mattress. You blush scarlet at the look in his eyes, and turn back to look at Michael, who's hovering above you, still moving inside you. You flex your legs, pressing your pelvis up into his next thrust. You moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, your back arching. Michael huffs out a breath in amusement, the air warming your neck.

“God, Michael,” you say starting to pant. He presses an open mouthed kiss to the side of your neck and you feel yourself tremble in response. He thrusts hard, and you whine a little, clenching around him. He grunts once, picking his head back up to look down at you. He thrusts again and it’s perfect. You moan loud and long, and you can’t even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You pant, pushing your mouth up against his, tugging his head in to yours. He hits that perfect spot again and you jerk against him. He laughs against your mouth, breaking the kiss to hear you groan. He increases his pace, hitting your clit just right. The perfect angle, speed, rhythm, even pressure. It’s absolutely perfect.

You start rambling nonsense. No real sentences just his name, and the Lord’s name, and “please” and “oh” and “again.” You close your eyes, and tense up against him, arching your back and holding your breath. You come around him, feeling him hard and just right inside of you. Warmth and pleasure radiates out through your body. Bliss. You sigh, going limp. He’s still erect, still hard and full and there inside of you. He gives you a minute to catch your breath, to collect yourself before he’s moving again. You expect him to finish quickly but that doesn’t happen. He’s just come, with Ryan, who you suddenly remember is right there beside you, watching. The recent orgasm has taken the edge off. He’s in for the long haul now. You smile, licking your dry lips, and lean up to capture his mouth once more, your hands slide up his back to his shoulders. One of his hands slides down your body, cradling your hip for a moment before sliding down your belly to press against your clit. You gasp, half in pleasure, half in pained overstimulation. He lightens the press of his fingers, and you clench around him in reaction, shuddering with renewed arousal. “Oh, Michael?” you question. He chuckles against your ear, pulling his head up to kiss across your jaw. One of your hands moves to the back of his neck and up into his hair, straying toward the sweet spot behind Michael’s ear.

He moves so fast you don’t even notice til he’s done so. He captures your hand, pressing it flat against the bed beside your head. In a strange echo of earlier his fingers thread through yours locking your hands together. You let out a chuckle, adjusting the grip of your thighs around his hips, and adjusting the angle. He breathes your name pressing in deeper than before and you groan.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” you whisper, feeling the pleasure building and building inside of you. It’s going faster this time, coming quickly and picking up speed. You gasp. “Michael!” you say urgently, tightening your thighs and clenching down around him. His hips stutter, losing their rhythm. He presses in hard, rocking in place, his fingers tightening around yours. He comes in a rush, clutching your body to his, and groaning aloud. The thrumming of his hips against yours makes your blood sing, and you come a second time, clenching around him. He bucks in response, cursing and shuddering.

You end up falling asleep soon after, warm and slightly sweaty under all those blankets. The body heat of three bodies so much warmer than just two. When you wake up in the morning Ryan is gone, and Mike is too. Stretching you get out of bed and pull on your warmest night gown, red flannel, a gag gift from an old college friend, and your bathrobe. Even the dogs have abandoned you. Brushing your teeth and throwing your hair up in a bun, you head downstairs. You can hear the TV on in the kitchen, and you suddenly realize the power is back on. Half glad because, hello heat, and half disappointed you probably won’t get to repeat last night, you turn the corner into the kitchen and freeze.

They’re not doing anything unexpected. Michael has Ryan backed up against the counter. He’s sucking a hickey into Ryan’s bare shoulder. Ryan is busy trying not to let his knees go weak. One of his hands is gripping the counter, where his butt is balanced, one leg hiked up around Mike like he’s trying to climb him, the other arm gripping the back of Mike’s neck. You smile at the sight, clearing your throat. They spring apart, Ryan’s eyes blinking open quickly, and Mike turning to look at you, wiping his mouth with the back of one wrist. They both look horribly guilty. You laugh a little.

“You’re burning the eggs,” you say, pointing to the stove.

“Oh, shit!” Mike yells, diving to get the pan off of the stove, flicking the flame off with one hand, as he dumps the eggs into the sink. You shake your head at him, walking over and sliding your arms around his waist. You lean up capturing his mouth with your own. He tastes like OJ and Ryan. You hum, kissing him deeper. He relaxes against you, kissing back. You pull away when his hand starts to slide down over your butt. “Good morning!” you say cheerfully, smacking him on the hip, walking over to Ryan. You hop up onto the counter beside him, and slide close. He looks nervous. You grin at him, too happy to be embarrassed right at that moment. You lean over and press a kiss to Ryan’s cheek startling him. “Good morning,” you say softly smiling at him. He grins a little in response, blushing in a way that is frankly adorable.

“Why did you get out of bed? We were going to bring you breakfast!” Mike said cleaning the frying pan out to start over. You roll your eyes.

“I had to pee, besides you had me worried. You always wake me up in the morning. I’m not used to getting out of bed without my hello kiss!” you pout a little and listen to them both laugh in response. Mike dries the pan out, setting it back on the stove and strides over to you, bracing his hands on either side of your hips. You spread your legs a little, loving the feel of him pressing close between them. You’re kind of a slut for Michael. But you figure it’s ok, that’s allowed, you have a license. Michael’s eyes are very brown this morning, a warm sort of buttery brown that makes you want chocolate ice cream. He smiles at you bending close.

“Hello,” he whispers, before taking your mouth in another kiss. You moan, pulling him closer into the v of your legs, arching up against him.

“Who knew a grungy bathrobe and a flannel nightgown could be so sexy?” Ryan quips, jumping down off the counter before you can smack him one. You and Michael pull apart laughing. Ryan’s grinning at you from the fridge where he’s pulling out another carton of eggs. You blush red, shaking your head at him. Michael rolls his eyes.

“He’s just in a petty mood because he got some last night. One orgasm always leaves him wanting another. He’s going to be insufferable until he’s had another one,” Michael explains, elbowing Ryan away from the stove. Ryan glares at him a little. You laugh again, relaxed and happy and loved.

“Hmm.. you’ll have to take care of that for him, Michael. He is our houseguest for the foreseeable future…” you tease. Michael grins bouncing his eyebrows and making Ryan squirm.

 

Things are less awkward after that. It’s been decided between the three of you that this is ok. Here in the home you and Michael have built they can be together, be happy and in love. But that’s the extent of it. Debbie would never understand. Neither would Ryan’s parents, or his brothers and sister. But here it’s encouraged. It becomes routine to walk in on them kissing, or even fucking, though you do object when you find them spread out on the dining room table naked. You have to eat there next Thanksgiving with Debbie and Michael’s sisters! You can’t be thinking about the two of them having sex while sitting there surrounded by family and bouncing your baby niece on your knee! Michael distracts you with a kiss and the next thing you know it’s you spread out across the dining room table. You’re too turned on to even care that it’s broad daylight and that Ryan’s right there. Those inhibitions don’t last long once you’ve seen him in flagrante with your husband half a dozen times.

 

Time passes. It always does. Ryan takes a trip to NYC for a swim clinic and is back a few days later with presents that include shoes for you, ties for Michael, and a little tiny baby onesie that says “World’s best breastsucker” on it. You choke on your tea when you read it and refuse to ever let your child wear the thing. Ryan explains it’s a pun on Breaststroker. You nod, having gotten the joke, but he doesn’t get why you object. It’s two days later that a package arrives. This time it is a little flesh toned onesie with the speedo logo emblazoned on the tummy, the outline of a black swimsuit around the waist and butt, and a tiny gold medal printed on the chest. You laugh for almost 10 minutes, hugging it to your chest. Both Michael and Ryan crack up and when Ryan asks you if this one was better. You nod yes, pulling him into an embrace, kissing his cheek, tears pouring down your face with mirth.

You’re happy. Mike and Ryan are both happy. Even the dogs seem happy. Discussions about Ryan moving out slowly stop and instead you start asking him for his opinion on the houses you and Michael have started looking at, wanting more room to spread out in. You develop a routine. You’re still working and Mike’s still coaching. You work a regular schedule at the library, and the majority of the time Ryan goes with Mike to the pool. On days you don’t work and Mike does, Ryan tends to stay home. It’s nice to have time just the two of you. You get along well, and he’s fun to hang out with. You go shopping, and out to eat. He takes you to movies Mike doesn’t want to go see, and helps you tick names off the baby name list. You genuinely like having him around. With the baby and the happiness Ryan brings into the house, things between you and Mike are going great.

Michael makes time for you. You don’t feel left out or ignored. He’s always so happy to see you, still sits and cuddles you on the couch, and still well… babies you about the baby. You’ve always had an active sex-life. You love and want Mike, and he loves and wants you. Ryan only seems to escalate things. That is until your hormones kick in. Then you let them take all the credit for the increase in sex you’re having.

 

In April you make plans for a dinner date. You want fancy food for a change. The kind of food that requires reservations booked in advance, and white dinner napkins. Michael grudgingly agrees, while Ryan laughs at him. That evening you come home early to an empty house, and go to get all fancied up. You put on a nice dress, with an empire waist to cover your growing baby bump, and the dressiest flats you own. You do up your hair, pinning the curls up on top of your head, and pull out your favorite diamond necklace. The one Michael gave you on your first wedding anniversary. Then you wait. It is 10 minutes past the time you should be leaving for the restaurant when they burst through the door. They freeze at the sight of you sitting on the couch all dressed up. Michael’s face falls.

“I didn’t forget. I swear to God, Cathy. I can be ready in five minutes! There was an emergency!” he says, looking like a puppy expecting to get kicked at any moment. You frown, standing up off the couch.

“What happened?” you ask. He heads for the stairs, Ryan right behind him. You follow along.

“Blair slipped and fell. I have told that girl a million times not to run on the pool deck!” Mike calls back to you. Ryan nods.

“Fell and hit her head. Knocked her completely unconscious just 5 minutes before we were supposed to leave!” Ryan says. You’re in the bedroom now, and you watch Mike and Ryan both start to strip. Ryan goes to warm up the water in the shower, while Mike heads for the closet to get his best suit out.

“Is she ok?” you ask, worried about the young girl. She’s only 13, but one of the best natural breaststroker’s Mike says he’s ever seen before.

“Mild concussion. They say she’ll be fine. But if I catch her running on the pool deck again, I’m going to have to let Bob deal with her. We went with her to the Emergency Room, stayed with her until her parents got there. I swear Cathy I would have called you but I left my cell at the office, and then there was traffic. We headed straight home from the hospital. I haven’t even had time to take a shower. I reek of chlorine!” Mike explains, half buried in his closet. You freeze only a few feet away, waiting for the nausea even a passing whiff of the chemical has caused you for the last 4 months. But there’s nothing. You step closer, taking a hesitant breath in through your nose. Still nothing. Michael doesn’t notice anything is up, until you’re wrapping your arms around his naked waist, your nose pressed to his shoulder. He smells like the pool. Like chlorine and sweat. Like Michael is supposed to smell. You don’t realize how much you’ve missed it until it was wiped out of your life completely.

“Um, Cathy?” Mike asks. You grin, kissing his shoulder, and drag your nose up his neck, standing on your tip-toes to reach.

“Mhmm?” you ask.

“You’re not puking?” he asks. You shake your head.

“Nope,” you whisper in his ear, biting a little at the lobe. Mike spins around, and lifts you up. You squeal as he carries you to the bed.

“Chlorine aversion gone?” he asks, spreading you out under him on the mattress. You laugh, nodding your head.

“Apparently!” suddenly you don’t care about your reservations, or about making it to the restaurant on time, or that you spent an hour getting ready to go out. Michael’s here, and he’s on top of you, and he smells like he should for the first time in weeks. You’re desperate for him. You kick your shoes off, hiking up your dress around your waist. Michael laughs, kneeling on the bed and smiling down at you spread out before him. You giggle, sitting up to reach for the waist of Michael’s jeans. You unbuckle the belt, unbuttoning and unzipping the denim fabric, unsurprised that he’s not wearing underwear. He chokes on his laugh turning it into a moan at the feel of your hand on his dick. You laugh louder, letting him go and reaching up to wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your mouth to his.

His hands find the zipper of your dress, sliding it down, and pulling you up into his lap. He pulls your dress up and off of your body, your arms sliding back around him immediately, your mouths reconnecting. He supports your neck as he lays you back down, his hands sliding down your sides to grip your underwear. Breaking the kiss, he pulls them down off your legs and tosses them over his own shoulder. You laugh in response, spreading your legs for him. He pushes at his own jeans, sliding the denim off and awkwardly maneuvering out of them. You love Michael with every part of your heart, soul, and body, but you know he’ll never be as graceful on land as he is in the water. It’s one of his quirks.

He finally kicks the denim off his legs, and turns his attention back to you. By then you’re laughing a little hysterically and he joins in your laughter, his eyes lighting up with joy. He presses down against you, stretching his long torso out over you, bracing his weight on his arms and legs, careful not to squash you and the baby you’re carrying. He slowly stops laughing, smiling at you a bit tenderly. He presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, sliding his lips down the line of your jaw and up to your lips. You sigh against him, arching your back, and letting your legs pull up to wrap around his hips.

One of his hands traces down your shoulder and arm, sliding back up to cup your breast. Feeling the lace of one of your fancy bras he pulls back to look down at you. You flush a bit embarrassed, but Michael licks his lips, diving down to kiss you again. His lips are so familiar, his tongue so warm and perfect in your mouth. Suddenly you want to eat him alive, a rush of hormones and want sweeping through your system. You scramble at his back, wanting him to press down against you harder. He kisses your more aggressively in response, his mouth taking yours just the way you want. You press your hips up against his, desperate to have him inside of you. Suddenly it seems like that is the only thing that will give you relief that will lessen your aching want. You whine a little. He pulls back, looking concerned.

“Cathy?” he asks, fighting for breath. You pant up at him, rotating your hips against his again.

“Come on, Mike!” you say, one hand sliding down his chest to grip his erection. “Please!” you whine. He smiles a little slowly and bites his lower lip. He reaches down and you let go of his dick, pulling your hands back and feeling him adjust the angle. He pushes into you slowly and it’s just about the best feeling in the world. You groan hands combing across the comforter under you. Your eyes squeeze closed. He presses deep, sitting up on his knees and pulling your hips up and in. You moan in response shuddering with pleasure.

“Cath…” Michael whispers. You make a little moaning sound.

“More,” you beg, shifting your hips, blinking your eyes open once more. He nods. He spreads his legs further apart, bracing them against the mattress. Gripping your hips with his huge hands, he holds you still, pulling back and pushing back in to you again. Your breath hitches in your chest and you gasp. He repeats the action, staring down at you. You smile at him, feeling the warmth spreading through your body. He thrusts again, sliding deep and hitting that perfect angle inside of you. You cry out, your eyes squeezing shut, your legs pulling him in deeper and harder with the next thrust. Mike moves inside of you again and again, pulling out, and sliding back in. He goes at the speed and strength your body demands, sending your pleasure soaring with each press inside. Your head rolls to the side. You blink your eyes open a crack, feeling sweat rolling down your temple and your face heated with a flush. Through your eyelashes you see him.

Ryan is standing in the doorway to the bathroom. He’s wearing nothing but a towel, his curls wet with water from the shower. He’s staring transfixed at the tableau of the two of you rocking together on the bed. His eyes are wide, his mouth resting open in a perfect O of pleasure. His cheeks are flushed, burning red through his fading Florida tan. He’s breathing quickly, and one hand you realize is cupping his considerable erection through the terrycloth towel. He’s staring at Michael. No, he is staring at you! In that moment you want nothing more than for him to be there on the bed beside you and Michael. For it to be him pounding inside of you, his perfect lips moaning your name, while Michael lays beside you watching. You gasp at the thought, at the surprise of wanting him so desperately, at the feel of his eyes looking at you with such lust. Your eyes open wide and before you even realize you’re coming around Michael, your legs pulling him deep, your hands gripping his forearms, and his name pouring from your mouth. Your back bows upward, and you shout. Michael clutches you tighter, his hands holding and keeping your hips to his as he comes and comes inside of you.

Your thighs lose their grip and he pulls out of you, curling up around you on the bed, your back pressed snuggly to his front, His arms go around you, his lips warm and wet under your ear. You pant for air, your eyes firmly closed. You smile when you feel Michael kiss up your throat. He smiles against your ear.

“Where did that come from?” Michael asks you quietly. You blink your eyes open and look to the bathroom door, but Ryan is gone, disappeared back inside. You shake your head trying to clear it.

“I don’t know. I just wanted you so badly!” you whisper. He chuckles into your hair, still pinned up on top of your head, those several sections have come down, freed from their pins. You sit up a little suddenly ravenous for food. You reach for your bathrobe where it’s sitting at the side of the bed, and pull it on. Michael groans.

“Do we have to get up!? I just want to lay here for a little while with my beautiful wife!” he says. You laugh shaking your head.

“I’m hungry! And we’ve missed our dinner reservation completely. You want to order Chinese instead?” you ask. Michael lights up at the offer, leaning forward to take your mouth in another kiss. He climbs out of the bed, pulling his jeans back up his long muscular legs. He zips them up but leaves the top button undone, and pulls the belt from the remaining loops, tossing it on top of his dresser to put away later.

“I’ll go get the menu. You want the place on Howard or the one on Pratt?” he asks. You think a second before answering.

“Pratt, they have killer eggrolls.” He nods kissing you on quickly on the lips before moving quickly from the room to go find the right menu. As soon as he’s gone you climb from the bed and go to knock on the closed bathroom door. “Ryan?” you call softly. The door opens and Ryan’s there. He’s smiling but it doesn’t quite look right and he won’t meet your eyes. “I’m sorry if we embarrassed you,” you whisper. He smiles a little more genuinely.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just didn’t realize what I was walking in on.”

“You know you’re always welcome, Ryan,” you offer.

“It looked like something private,” he explains. You smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Everything that happens in this house is private and you aren’t excluded from any of it. You’re not just our house guest, Ryan. You’ve become a member of our family. How long that will last, is primarily up to you!” you say gently. He blinks slowly, looking up at you in wonder. Mike’s big feet pounding up the stairs has you pulling back. You walk to the bed, where your dress is laying crumpled in a heap. You pick it up, walking to your closet to re-hang it on its hanger. It’s wrinkled you realize, and you will need to be steamed. When you turn around, Ryan is standing there with your flats in his hand. He looks confused.

“What are these?” he asks, slightly disgusted. You smile at him. You look down at your feet, slightly harder to accomplish that it had been a few weeks ago.

“My center of gravity is shifting, and my feet are a little swollen. I didn’t think my fuck-me heels were really appropriate for tonight!” you laugh. “Besides they proved completely unnecessary!” Mike has stretched out on the bed, cell phone in hand and begun to pour over the menu. Ryan laughs loudly, shaking his head.

“We can do better than these though. These are just shameful!” He looks as if he wants to throw them away, rather than let them near your otherwise pretty decent shoe collection. He hums. “We are going shopping tomorrow!” he decides. “All the summer fashions should be out by now. Sandals, tennis shoes, comfy yet adorable. That’s what you need!” he decrees. You grin at him.

“Sounds like an excellent idea!” you answer.

“Yo’ shopaholics!” Mike calls. You both turn to look at him. He grins at you wearing his post orgasm glow proudly. “What do you want to order? 5 entrees or 6?” he asks. You and Ryan share a look.

“Seven!” you proclaim together.

 

The closer it gets to Olympic Trials (it’s always capitalized in the Phelps household) the more hectic life becomes. Michael and Ryan both start spending more time down at the pool coaching Tim to get him prepared, mentally and physically. By the end of May you’re over five months pregnant and getting bigger every day. It gets harder for the three of you to spend any kind of quality time together, not that you stop trying. When you announce that you’re going to a swim meet, on Friday night, and that they’ll have to fend for themselves for dinner this once, they both look at you like you’re crazy. You know where this will lead, there’s no doubt in your mind.

“Swim meet?” Michael asks.

“Without us?” Ryan says turning to look at you and pouting before turning back to the TV.

“Yep!” you reply. You turn back to your book of baby names. Girls names are not coming very easily, and you and Michael are still searching for just the right one. You’re both pretty set on Bradley Michael for a boy, but so far a girl’s name has eluded you. Michael gets up from where he’s stretched out on the living room rug playing video games with Ryan, to sit beside you on the couch. He puts his arm around you.

“Swim meet?” he asks again. You turn and smile at him sweetly. “Where?”

“School. The Towson swim team is competing against UMBC and UofM,” you explain turning back to your book. “What do you think of Tammy?” you ask. Ryan turns around on the floor to give you a look.

“Tammy Phelps?” he asks, frowning. You wrinkle your nose, crossing it out in the book, and continuing to read through the list. Michael shakes his head.

“Why are you going to this particular swim meet?” he asks. You sigh, setting the book down in your lap, in what little space isn’t taken up by baby belly.

“You remember me telling you about some of my students, Rich and Becky?” you ask. They both nod hesitantly. You shake your head, rolling your eyes. “The student athletes who I’ve been helping study for their English final, so that they can keep competing over summer semester?” you prod. Comprehension dawns in Michael’s eyes. He snaps his fingers nodding.

“You stayed late last week to help them cram!” he says triumphant. You nod your head.

“Yes, exactly. Well they both got B’s on their tests, and that helped them pass the class, and keep their GPAs up above the required level. So they’re both still on the swim team. That means they get to go to the big end of semester meet. They asked me to come watch them swim, and I said yes.” You pick up your book again. Ryan and Michael share a look.

“Are you sure you want to go spend a few hours at a pool?” Michael asks. You roll your eyes.

“It’s an outdoor meet, plenty of fresh air. Besides you know that chlorine hasn’t been bothering me for quite a while.” You smile slyly, looking at Michael and bouncing your eyebrows at him. “Quite the opposite really,” you tease. You hear Ryan laugh from the floor in front of you, but keep your eyes on Michael who’s looking a little dazed. You’re sure he’s remembering the last time he came home from the pool without showering first. You grin, turning slowly on the couch to lay down with your head in his lap. You swing your legs carefully up and over the arm of the couch, the book still in your hands. One of Michael’s hands goes to rest on your belly, the other carding through your curly hair. You reach down and adjust the hand on your tummy, moving it a few inches to the left where the baby is kicking a steady rhythm. He gasps, smiling down at you.

“Baby kick?” Ryan asks sliding closer. You nod, motioning for him to stick his hand up next to Michael’s. He does and they both grin. “Gonna have a hell of a dolphin kick one day,” Ryan announces. You laugh, going back to your book.

“Between the two of you he or she will probably have every stroke and kick mastered before they hit twelve. Theresa?” you ask. There’s a moment before they both shake their heads no. You sigh, crossing out that name too. “This is going to be an endless search!” you complain, crossing out another name.

“You guys will find the perfect name, stop stressing,” Ryan says patting your baby bump. The baby kicks harder in response making all three of you laugh. “Now, about this swim meet…” Ryan says trailing off. You roll your eyes.

“You guys want to go?” you ask. They both quickly say yes and you grin. “Fine. But be prepared to sign a lot of autographs. Like a lot of autographs and remember this was your idea!”

 

Friday comes quickly, and you wait at the school beside your car parked in the faculty lot closest to the pool. Michael and Ryan leave the pool at NBAC about an hour earlier than usual in order to get there on time. Michael parks his SUV in the open spot nearest your sedan. You get hugs from them both and a kiss from Michael when they reach you. In response you hand them both Ravens caps to wear. Ryan makes a face at the purple color and Ravens logo before pulling it on over his curls. You doubt the hats will work for long as disguises, but hope it will at least let you get seated before the mobbing begins.

You get further than you had thought you would. You get your tickets, and preliminary schedules, and get in and find seats, even watch a few races before Ryan rips his hat off to run his hands through his sweaty hair and the girl one row in front of you starts gibbering. It takes less than a second for her to recognize him, almost a minute to accept it’s really him about 5 seconds after that to recognize Michael, and about ½ a second after that to go ape shit. It doesn’t take very long at all for word to spread after the squealing starts.

Since the swimming is essentially halted while everyone goes crazy for a few minutes, you take the opportunity to go find the bathroom. Michael glares a little when you grin and wave good bye, but you just laugh in response. He is the one who insisted on coming. It’s as you’re leaving the bathroom that you stumble upon Rich, who has just left the locker room to find out what all the commotion is about.

“Hey, Mrs. P. glad you could make it!” he says offering you a half naked hug. You pat his shoulder and smile at him. “You know what’s going on over there?” he asks pointing to where most of the audience is surrounding your husband and seemingly permanent houseguest.

“Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte came to watch the meet. People are excited,” you explain.

“Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte?” he asks, his mouth dropping open. You nod. “Wow. You think they’ll be here later? I’ve always wanted to meet them. They’re both like legends!” You grin. You start to reply when Becky’s bouncy arrival cuts you off.

“Did you hear, Rich? Phelps and Lochte! I can’t believe it. Hey Mrs. Phelps, glad you could…” she trails off, her face going slack, as if she’s mentally piecing it all together. “Mrs. Phelps? You wouldn’t happen to be married to Michael Phelps? 22 time Olympic Medalist, Michael Phelps?” she asks, shocked. Rich’s jaw drops and they both stare at you with stricken expressions.

“Yes, I am, Becky. I wouldn’t worry about trying to get the chance to meet either of them right now. You’ve got inside connections. I want both of you to focus on your races! Towson better kick some Terp and Retriever ass tonight, you hear?” They both nod quickly. Smiling and shaking your head you start back across the deck to where security is calming people down, and Ryan and Mike promising autographs to everyone once the races are over for the night. You sigh, there goes your dinner reservations. But it couldn’t really be helped. You wait a few minutes at the bottom of the stairs for the crowd to disperse and settle down once more before climbing back up.

A security guard stands mid-way up the steps, watching everyone like a hawk. You smile at him, showing him your faculty ID badge bearing your name “Cathy Phelps” in big Black letters next to the Tigers head graphic. He nods, letting you pass by him. Michael and Ryan are whispering when you show up. You laugh at them and they turn to glare at you.

“That was hilarious!” you say. Michael scowls but Ryan just grins up at you. He slides down the bench a little, making room for you to sit between them, and making the girl sitting to his right giggle and blush at his close proximity. You take your seat, one hand going to the small of your back, the other resting on your stomach where the baby’s head is pressing into your rib cage a little uncomfortably. Michael’s hand comes around you to press right where it hurts and you groan a little. “Oh that feels good.” He smiles a little in response. Ryan shakes his head.

“So we just promised about a hundred autographs when this is over. I hope you’re happy!” Ryan says. You laugh again, honestly happy with the outcome.

“Oh come on! You haven’t been mobbed in ages! Tell me you didn’t enjoy that at least a little bit?” you ask. Ryan rubs at his ear and looks away, embarrassed. You turn to look at Michael who’s watching the Men’s 100m Butterfly swimmers walk out. He whistles, shouting encouragement, and pointedly doesn’t reply. You sink into his side, putting your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes against the early evening summer sun. This was just what the three of you needed. Sunshine, and a pool, and something that didn’t involve books, or coaching, or your shared home.

“Do you guys still want to go out to dinner later? We can make it a late meal, but I’m going to need a snack soon if we do,” you ask. Ryan nods.

“That sounds good, and we need to go pick up another cheesecake,” he says. You frown, turning to look at him.

“You ate my cheesecake?” you ask. He flinches like you have just slapped him.

“Maybe a little bit. But there wasn’t much left to begin with, and it was so good!” he reasons. You glare harder.

“I know it was good. That’s why I like it. That was for later!” you protest. Ryan looks guilty.

“I’m sorry. I swear we’ll pick one up before we go home. I even called and ordered one earlier. They have it ready and waiting for us!” he says, pouting. You sigh, shaking your head. You lean further into Michael and let all the fight drain out of you.

“Fine, but you’re taking me out there. It’s on the other side of the city, and while we’re driving you and I are going to have a little discussion about withholding cheesecake from a pregnant woman!” you reply. He laughs, but nods, reaching over to rub your baby belly.

“I would never deny my little niece or nephew anything they wanted!” he said in a baby voice. You smack his hand away.

“Yeah, and that’s why this baby’s going to be spoiled rotten!” you say, grinning a little. Michael laughs.

“Every kid deserves a little bit of spoiling. It’s all about balancing out saying yes with occasionally saying no,” he explains.

“Yeah Yeah,” you answer. Ryan groans stretching out his arms and shoulders beside you. He takes the hat off his head again. Seeing you squinting in the late afternoon sun, he plops the hat down on your head.

“Here, I don’t want your nose to burn,” he teases. You stick your tongue out at him. He pulls his wallet from his pocket and goes through it, counting his dollars. “I got eight ones. Who wants cokes? Who wants candy?” he asks. You grin at him. After taking yours and Michael’s orders, he wanders off to find the nearest vending machines. You turn back to the races, pointing out Becky when she comes out to do the 100 fly. Michael slides his arm all the way around you, and you lean closer into him. When the race is over and you’ve cheered Becky’s win, you turn to look at Michael. He’s so happy watching people race, rooting from the stands. It doesn’t have to be him in the water, or a teammate, or friend, or student. He just enjoys the swimming and the racing. You promise yourself that next semester you’ll make more time for these meets.

“So I had an idea about the baby,” you say quietly. He pulls his eyes away from the water to look at you.

“Yeah?” he asks. You nod.

“What do you think about four god parents?” you ask.

“Four?”

“Yeah, four. I was just thinking if we picked one of your sisters we would be leaving the other out. And if we include Whitney it makes sense to include her husband Bob, and that gets us to three. So I was thinking one more would be a nice round four,” you explain. Midway through your explanation, Michael starts to smile.

“So who was your idea for a second godfather?” he asks, grinning widely. You look away fighting a blush. He laughs and spies Ryan making his way back across the pool deck. “We’ll talk about it tonight, after he’s gone to bed.” You nod, smiling widely when Ryan returns with pita chips and a snickers bar just for you.

The swim meet seems to go on forever, as your excitement wanes and your back starts to hurt, the bleacher seating not giving you something to rest against. But Ryan and Michael don’t grow tired of rooting for their chosen teams. Michael chooses Towson to root for in solidarity with you, while Ryan chooses UMBC due to their Chesapeake Bay Retriever Logo and judicious use of yellow in their swim caps.

Midway through the meet Michael notices your back ache and asks the couple sitting behind you if they can slide over. They do with wide eyes and he moves to sit behind you, his long legs pressed together for you to lean against. Ryan makes cooing noises ‘til you smack him in the thigh, turning back to watch Rich swim the 200 Free.

Towson does kick ass, and while Becky wins her 2 races, Rich only wins the 400free relay, coming in second in the 200 free. Overall UofM wins the meet, but Towson is a close second. As soon as the races are over Michael kisses your cheek and he and Ryan go off to sign autographs at the hastily erected table set up in the lobby. For over an hour they sign piece of paper after piece of paper, posing for quick photos. When all of the spectators are done with they move on to the athlete’s, spending extra time with their fellow swimmers, and answering questions.

It’s getting late and you’re practically starving by the time they’re done. But it’s worth it. They both have huge smiles on their faces when the last of the swimmers walk away giddy and excited at having met a few of the best swimmers of all time. You announce it’s time for dinner and the three of you drive to a nearby deli. You order a huge turkey sandwich and a pile of greasy fries. When they aren’t looking you steal their pickle spears, and they both pretend not to notice.

Over all it’s been a long day. After work, the swim meet, the impromptu autograph session, and dinner you almost put-off going out to get the cheesecake. But Ryan points out that the bakery’s owner is staying open late just for them. Michael laughs and tells you to go ahead, that he knows at 2 in the morning you’re going to have a craving for cheesecake, and there’s no reason to deny the baby what it wants. You laugh and kiss him goodbye, following Ryan out to your car, climbing into the passenger seat of your sedan and kicking off your shoes. Ryan waves goodbye to Michael as he pulls away in his SUV, climbing in behind the wheel beside you. You put your head back closing your eyes as Ryan pulls onto the highway.

“So I’m waiting,” he prompts after a few minutes of nothing but the radio playing, you turn to look at him.

“Waiting for what?” you ask. He smiles, eyes on the road.

“For my lecture on stealing cheesecake from pregnant women,” he explains. You roll your eyes laughing a little.

“Hmm,” you hum. “I think I’ll let you off with a warning this time. You did buy me a snickers bar and you are driving all the way to the other side of Baltimore to get me a new one.” Ryan reaches over, capturing your hand.

You put your head back again, watching the street lights go by. It’s really late now, fewer cars on the road, and you ask Ryan how he convinced the bakery to stay open so much later than usual.

“I used my natural Lochte charms of course,” he grins. You roll your eyes.

“No. How’d you really convince them?” you ask. He laughs.

“I may have name dropped a little,” he trails off. You sit up a little straighter, wiggling your toes against the carpet lining the floor of the car.

“Swim fans at the bakery?” you ask, imagining a 20 something girl making goo-goo eyes at Mike every time he drops by to pick up another cheesecake. You frown. Ryan shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the road.

“No! Not Mike, or me for that matter… You!” he proclaims. You laugh.

“Me?” you ask. He nods.

“Yep! Apparently all the ‘Phelps’ orders for cheesecake each week caught the owners attention. According to him, Mike’s been bragging about his beautiful, brilliant, pregnant wife and how the only thing she and the baby seem to crave in the middle of the night happens to be this particular bakery’s cheesecake and Kosher dill pickles. What baker wouldn’t be honored by such dedication?” Ryan asked. “Anyway. I just name dropped ‘Phelps’ and ‘pregnant’ and viola late night hours just for us!” he grins at you then and you giggle.

“So I’m famous for my appetite now?” you ask.

“Yes. But just a little bit,” he squeezes your hand once before letting it go and bringing his hand back to the steering wheel.

For the rest of the drive you discuss random topics: What to get Mike for his coming birthday. You’re both clueless, as usual. Tim’s progress at the pool. Good, no great actually. The progress you’ve made in your seemingly endless search for a house to move into. Not much. This however is beginning to stress you a little. You need more room. Especially if you don’t want to kick Ryan out of the guest room and make it a nursery. The baby won’t be able to sleep in yours and Michael’s room forever!

Eventually you get to the bakery and Ryan runs in to get the cheesecake. When he gets back he sticks it between your feet for the drive home, and starts heading back toward the highway. This is where your memory of the night grows hazy. You remember bits and pieces: talking, laughing, the flash of headlights and the screech of brakes, Ryan’s arm braced across your chest. You don’t remember the crash or the immediate aftermath.

 

You wake up lying on the pavement. A woman is kneeling beside you talking, trying to calm you, and painfully pressing a piece of cloth to your forehead. Your left wrist throbs with each heartbeat.

“What… What happened?” you ask.

“You’ve been in an accident. You’re alright. An ambulance is on the way,” she says. You look around, remembering.

“Ryan?” you say. “Ryan!?” you say it louder, trying to sit up. She presses gingerly on your shoulder, trying to keep you still. “Ryan!” you scream and you gasp, your hands going to your abdomen. “My baby?” you cry, ignoring the pain in your wrist and clutching at your stomach. “Oh no! Oh God!” you yell, frantic.

“Cathy!” Ryan’s there in an instant. He kneels on your other side. He’s got a cut on his forehead too but he’s alive and it calms you to see him up and moving around. “It’s okay!” he says, touching your hair with one hand. “It’s ok, Cathy, you’re fine!” he says trying to smile. Your eyes rake over him, checking for damage.

“The baby,” you plead. His face softens.

“The baby’s fine!” he says, guiding your right hand down and around toward your side. “Alive and kicking!” he smiles. Your hand clutches where he’s pressed it and suddenly you can feel it, the gentle flutter and press of your baby moving inside of you. You sob with relief, and he nods, rearranging your injured wrist and pushing your hair back off your sweaty face. “Stay calm, babe. I think you’re both gonna be just fine. Jeah?” he says quietly. You nod.

“What about you? You’re bleeding,” your right hand reluctantly leaves your belly, moving up to touch his face. He catches your hand in his.

“I’m fine,” he says, smiling again. “It’s just a scratch. Probably won’t be modeling for a while. But what can you do?” he shrugs his shoulders. “Oh and guess what?” he says, voice teasing.

“What?” you ask in confusion. He reaches up behind your head and picks something up, moving it into your view.

“Look what else survived the crash more or less intact,” he jokes grinning widely. In his hands is a slightly dented but mostly ok cake box bearing your favorite bakery’s logo.

When the ambulance arrives you’re both still laughing.

 

Mike’s frantic when he gets to the hospital. They’ve put you and Ryan in one room together. You’ve lied and told them he’s your brother. It’s easier to do that, than to tell them the truth. People do tend to look at you funny when you introduce them to your husband’s boyfriend/best-friend/roommate, not that you’ve ever actually done that. So when Michael arrives in the room, frantic with worry, he finds the two of you in side-by-side beds. You’re reclining in one, a fetal heart rate monitor attached to your tummy, and a doctor stitching closed the small gash on your forehead. Ryan sits up on the other bed, swinging his legs back and forth like a kid, and waiting patiently to have his own head stitched. Michael comes to you first, and he sits in the chair between you, looking worried and anxious.

“Cathy?” he asks reaching for your left hand. You wince pulling it away.

“They think it might be broken, a little bit,” you tell him. He frowns harder. Standing he leans close and presses a kiss to your cheek. One of his hands falls to your tummy.

“The baby?” he asks quietly, his voice shaking.

“They think the baby’s fine!” you reassure him. “See,” you point to the monitor with its fast moving little line showing the baby’s heart beat.

“Are you ok?” he asks. He turns to look at Ryan, and you see the fear in his eyes go up a notch. “Both of you?” Ryan grins at him.

“I’m ok. But I got blood on my shoes!” Ryan whines holding up his pale blue covered feet, speckled with drying blood. Michael laughs a little turning back to you. You smile at him.

“We’re all going to be fine, Mike. Stop freaking out. They think I might have a mild concussion and a broken wrist. Ryan seems to be ok except for the cut on his forehead, but he and I both need to go down for additional testing. The doc’s aren’t worried,” you explain. “We got really lucky,” you whisper. He seems to deflate in his seat.

“There’s nothing lucky about this,” he says quietly, putting his face in his hands. Ryan kicks him in the thigh.

“Shut up, Michael! Thinking like that is not going to help anyone. We were in an accident. It wasn’t our fault, but it’s over now!” he chastises. Michael sighs and nods reluctantly. The doctor finishes your last stitch and puts a dressing over the wound. He smiles at Michael, introducing himself and repeating everything you’ve already told Michael. Mike seems to calm at hearing the same news from a trained professional.

You do have a mild concussion and a broken wrist. Ryan has a mild concussion too. You’re both kept overnight for observation. He’s sent to a general ward, and you’re sent to the Obstetrics floor. Michael calls his mother and the next thing you know you have Debbie Phelps wandering around your hospital room, fetching ice chips and fluffing pillows. She looks scared to death, but also regally determined that nothing will go wrong on her watch. You end up falling asleep to her hand combing through your hair, and a whispered conversation between Debbie and Michael. Something about him going to check on Ryan, and being back in a little bit. You almost tell him to give Ryan a kiss for you, but you stop yourself in time.

They wake you a few hours later and Michael’s there again, he’s reclining in a chair next to your bed, his feet up beside yours, and his purple baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. The nurse runs through your reflexes, asking simple questions to check your cognitive responses. She leaves as quietly as she came and you’re left to watch Michael sleep. Shifting position, you groan, moving yourself back up the bed where you had slid down the incline. At the sound of pain he sits up immediately. He looks tired and briefly you feel guilty for worrying him so much. He pulls his feet down off of the bed, moving to take your right hand in his.

“Hey,” he says quietly. You smile at him squeezing his long fingers, your eyes are drawn to the screen beside your bed showing the read out of the fetal monitor. “Don’t worry, it’s strong. We have a healthy baby, Cathy. They don’t seem worried at all,” he reassures you. You let out a sigh of relief and relaxing back against the bed.

“How’s Ryan?” you ask. He smiles.

“Ryan is absolutely fine. He’s upstairs charming the pants off the entire floors nursing staff. He has more pillows, blankets, and pitchers of water than anyone could ever need,” he says it with a grin on his face. You laugh in response, feeling the baby jump in your belly. You let go of Michael’s hand, pressing against the spot you felt the movement. The baby seems to press back against your hand, reassuring you that they really are ok. You smile, bringing Mike’s hand to that same spot. He leans close kissing your cheek.

“I was so scared, Michael,” you whisper, clutching his hand again. Your voice trembles and you feel your eyes start to fill, but you fight back the tears.

“You’re alright! You’re all just fine!” he reassures you. You nod, tugging on his hand and maneuvering carefully to the other side of the bed. Michael takes the hint and slides in beside you, his arm curling around you. You lean into him, letting him hold you.

“Ryan was wonderful,” you whisper. “He protected me, when the car hit us,” you say. Michael’s hand cards through the back of your hair. “I don’t remember much of the accident, but I remember that. He put his arm out to stop my flying forward. He was trying to protect me and the baby. Michael he could have broken his arm,” you whisper.

“He’s a good guy. He cares about you, and the baby,” Michael says agreeing with you. You nod, pressing closer and leaning your head against his shoulder.

“That’s why I want him to be the baby’s godfather, one of them at least. Michael he loves us and he loves this baby. He would do anything to protect this child. That’s what a godparent is supposed to do,” Michael smiles into your hair.

“You won’t get any argument from me,” he says. You laugh a little.

“He loves you so much. Michael I don’t… I don’t want him to leave…” you whisper, suddenly nervous.

“I don’t want him to leave either,” Michael replies. You sigh, snuggling close, turning carefully onto your side, and curling up against Michael’s side. Your broken wrist has been fitted in a brace and you rest it carefully on a pillow plopped down on Michael’s lap. “Go to sleep, Cathy. You’ve had a really bad day.” You nod, relaxing against him.

 

You and Ryan are both released the next day. He’s let lose early in the morning and comes down to your room to keep you company. They keep you a few hours longer, releasing you later in the afternoon. Michael drives you both home, driving slowly and carefully. You half want to smack him for being silly, and are half grateful he’s being so safe. The dogs are excited to see you, and when you are ordered to sit down on the couch, you find yourself surrounded by dogs. Barbie is going crazy, licking you all over, and trying to crawl inside your blouse. It’s only a few minutes later that Ryan enters the room carrying a piece of cheesecake on a plate. You laugh out loud at the sight and accept it with greedy hands. He sits down beside you on the couch and watches you eat the first forkful. But you’re generous and you share the piece with him. Mike comes back into the room to find the two of you snuggled on the couch passing the fork back and forth. He makes a face.

“Eww..” he says, flopping down on the recliner. You roll your eyes.

“Your tongue has been in his mouth, and then immediately in mine. How is this any worse?” you ask, licking the tines of your fork. Ryan laughs beside you, handing the plate back to you.

“You have the rest,” he offers, kissing you on the cheek. “I need to watch my girlish figure,” he teases. You reach out and smack him in the arm but pull the plate in toward your chest anyway.

 

Things seem to slow down and speed up at the same time. Mike and Ryan make more of an effort to spend time with you, to pay you attention. Mike goes with you to all of your doctor’s appointments, and they both come shopping for baby items. Mike helps you pick out a gender neutral crib and Ryan helps you get an entire wardrobe of stuffed animals and shoes and clothing. Olympic Trials get closer and closer, with Mike making plans to take three of the NBAC swimmers to California. Bob was going too, having scheduled everything down to the minute as usual. They step up the warm ups and practices, training and the gym, and dodging interview inquiries. Word has gotten out about the new Phelps baby on the way, thanks to the swimmers at the Towson meet, and their inevitable gossip. Talk about Tim has increased, with some calling him the next great American backstroker which was a lot to put on the back of a 15 year old kid. Ryan and Mike both start spending more time at the pool, taking turns staying home with you as you go on maternity leave at the end of the semester.

By the time Olympic Trials come around in mid-June you’re six months along, and getting bigger every day. Michael says he doesn’t want you flying out to California, that you would just end up sitting in your hotel room all day, and that he’d rather you stayed home and rested. You roll your eyes a little but understand. The car accident had left you all shaken and scared. You don’t blame Michael for not wanting to put you on a plane across the country, just to sit and cheer. But if you stay home you know Ryan will too, and that Tim needs them both there. Eventually you get this across to them, and they stop fighting you on the issue. You book a two bedroom suite at the same hotel Tim and Bob are staying at. It’s a different hotel than the one USA Swimming has booked. It’s decided that Tim needs a little distance from the media and the other competitors. You all fly out a week before the meet starts, with the intention of staying for the entire meet and flying back home a few days afterward.

What you are not prepared for is the media waiting for your group as you step off the plane and enter the airport. There are camera flashes, and microphones getting shoved in faces, and security escorting your group out to a waiting van. Tim look nauseated, and his mother is hyperventilating. You climb up awkwardly onto the bench seat, pulling Nancy with you. You put your arm around her, and hug her to your side.

“It’s ok. It’s fine. Breathe, honey!” you order. She nods, sucking in deep breaths and letting them slowly out again. Mike is furious, sitting beside the driver in the front seat. He looks back at you over his shoulder, and starts making phone calls. He starts with Peter Carlisle his old PR guy, asking why they had no heads up about the waiting trouble. Tim is sitting in the back of the van in the row behind you, hunched in on himself. Ryan is seated on one side, and Bob on the other both talking to him in low voices. They’ve both calmed down by the time the van pulls up to the hotel. You get checked in, and get them to their room without any more problems. Bob is staying on the same floor but you Ryan and Michael have a suite on a higher floor. Mike had explained that you were likely to spend much more time at the hotel than any of the rest of you, so why shouldn’t he splurge a little on his lovely wife. You had of course, blushed red, and smiled widely. You’d known the real reason, not that his excuse hadn’t been fairly accurate. The truth was with a suite on a higher floor, the three of you were afforded more privacy, and no prying eyes keeping track of who was sleeping in which bedroom.

Ryan claims the room closer to the door as his own and goes to unpack. Michael takes the rest of the bags into the back bedroom, setting them down on the bed. You sit down at the head of the bed and call Debbie to check on the dogs. She’s watching all three, much to her own chagrin. They’re fine, she reassures you and you hang up promising to call the minute you know Tim’s fate. You’re sure she’ll be glued to the online coverage and know within seconds, but it’s the thought that counts.

You watch Michael unpack, smiling as he puts away your clothes just the way you like it. He turns around to grab something else and catches your smile.

“What are you grinning about?” he asks. You smile wider, moving toward the center of the bed, taking your time with the added weight of the baby in your belly.

“Just thinkin’ bout what a great husband I have,” you say teasingly. Michael grins in reply, pulling your last pair of shoes out of the suitcase and sticking them away in the closet. His own bag he drops to the floor by the bed. Then he’s crawling up the bed to lie down beside you.

“I’m not that great,” he whispers, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching up with his free hand to brush a curl off your face. You smile at him.

“You’re pretty spectacular, actually,” you reply, leaning toward him to steal a kiss. He rubs a hand up your side and over your shoulder, kissing you back with equal relish.

“Ooh, nice!” Ryan’s voice rings out from the doorway. You break the kiss giggling, but Michael doesn’t let you go.

“Shut it, Ryan!” Michael growls, capturing your mouth again. Ryan laughs from the doorway.

“Someone’s in a grouchy mood!” Ryan replies, coming inside and shutting the door behind himself. You break the kiss again, turning to look at Ryan. Michael, undeterred, starts to kiss across your neck, making you moan.

“Did you bolt the door?” you ask, panting a little. Ryan grins nodding. He plops down in the chair at the desk, turning it around to straddle it backwards. He rests his arms across the back and leans forward to watch. You don’t mind. It’d taken several months of getting used to but you weren’t body shy around Ryan anymore. He’d seen you fucking, bleeding, and puking. They were pretty much the epitome of grossness. If he hadn’t run screaming then, stretch marks weren’t going to do it. Michael sucks a little at your neck, his hands pulling at the bottom of your blouse. You sigh, sitting up a little to let him pull it off. He takes a moment to stop kissing you and look down at you. He grins, running his thumbs across the full tops of your breasts.

“These have definitely gotten bigger,” he whispers. You laugh, shaking your head at him.

“They tend to do that. You should appreciate them while they’re still nice and round. They’ll probably drop down to around my waist once the baby stops feeding!” you tease. Michael looks vaguely horrified and you laugh again, tugging his mouth back to yours again. He’s sliding his hands up the bottom of your skirt a second later, bunching it up around your waist and tugging at your underwear. There’s a single-mindedness about his actions that has your brain kicking into overdrive. Something about the way he pulls your underwear down, the way his mouth sucks at yours, the grip he has on your hips. He’s almost desperate, but it can’t be horniness. He’s pretty much always horny, but you’d watched Ryan fuck him into oblivion before the sun had risen that morning, and you had to leave for the airport, so it can’t be that. He bites at your lip, shoving at his own slacks to get them out of the way, almost frantic. He seems to freeze for a second then, stopping all motion. You can practically hear the wheels turning in his head. When he kisses you again, it’s softer, gentler. His grip on your hips has lessened, and he’s forcing himself to breath slower. You break the kiss, seeing the restraint on his face, in the tension of his shoulders. You look over his shoulder, your eyes meeting Ryan’s. He’s seen it too. It’s like a wordless conversation seems to take place then between the two of you. He nods a moment later, while Mike’s licking across your clavicle to kiss your breasts.

You watch Ryan undress quickly and efficiently, his eyes glued to Michael’s back. You get Mike out of his shirt, and help him shove off his pants and underwear. You shimmy out of your skirt and panties, letting everything fall to the floor in a heap. You’ll deal with laundry later. You cradle Michael’s body between your thighs, and groan softly with relief when he slides inside of you, back bowed, as he takes your nipple into his mouth. Your breasts are sore, oversensitive from hormones, and swelling. But his mouth is sweet, tender, soothing on your flesh. It sends warmth shooting through you and you gasp. He moves slowly inside of you, like you’re made of parchment and could break at the slightest touch. He doesn’t see Ryan, until he’s being pulled backward off of you and wrestled onto his back. You don’t hesitate to crawl over to him. You straddle his hips, sliding down on top of him, taking him inside of yourself again. Michael stares up at you in confusion. He looks at Ryan and then you and back again.

“Wha?” he asks. You grin.

“I’m not breakable. You don’t have to treat me like I am,” you whisper, rotating your hips and making him squirm. Ryan has him by the shoulders, holding him down against the mattress. You lift your hips, sliding back down hard, and hitting that spot inside of you that feels so good. Your eyes close and you tilt your head back. You do it again, gasping. You don’t care that Ryan is right there, or that you aren’t usually this commanding in bed. You want to come. You want it right now. And Mike is hot and hard and inside of you. If you flex just right he hits just the perfect depth at just the right angle. You can feel his eyes on you.

“Cathy?” Michael asks. You move faster, ignoring him, glad to be on top and in control. Ryan’s holding Mike down. He can’t move. Can’t grip your hips to control the pace and you speed up as your orgasm gets closer. Michael pants under you. You know that sound, that little hitch in his breathing. He’s getting close too. You feel yourself tumble over the edge, and press down hard, taking him deep inside of you. Michael whines, not quite there, and flexes his hips. You press down harder, with all of your weight to stop him shifting. His breathing stutters as your muscles clench around him, but he doesn’t come. He groans wanting too so badly, so close. But you deny him. You don’t give him that little shove he needs so desperately. You catch your breath, and climb off of him, sliding down to lay beside him. It’s Ryan’s turn.

Ryan’s on top of him kissing him in mere seconds, still holding him down to the bed, still in control. Mike goes pliant under him, his hands gripping Ryan’s forearms. He makes needy sounds. Ryan pulls back from the kiss.

“You want to fuck. You’re aggravated, and stressed, and worried as hell. And you want to fuck. But your wife is 6 ½ months pregnant. You’re afraid of hurting her, of hurting the baby.” Ryan whispers it in Michael’s ear, voice low and soft. Michael bites his own lip so hard you’re afraid it will split open. He nods, almost ashamed. Ryan smiles sympathetic. “I’m not pregnant,” he says, sitting up across Michael’s hips. “So fuck me instead.” The shock spreads quickly over Michael’s face. You fight to keep the surprise off of your face too.

“You don’t like that. You don’t do that,” Mike answers. “You said it’s too much. Too intense,” he sounds confused. Ryan glances at you and your eyes meet again. It’s like the longer this goes on the more in-tune you are with each other when it comes to Michael.

“I don’t do it because it’s too intense. It means too much. But you…” his face softens. “You’re everything.”

It’s like a switch has been flipped in your husband. He’s rolling Ryan under him, spreading him out on the other side of the bed. You’re suddenly so glad you booked a room with a king-sized mattress. Michael’s pressing Ryan into the bed, kissing him aggressively, biting and sucking. You reach for little bag you keep in the bedside drawer. You find the tube of lube and a condom, opening the little package for them. When you turn back around not much has changed. Michael’s still kissing Ryan, but their hands are gripping each other tighter, and Michael’s got one hand under Ryan’s left thigh, pulling it up and to the side. Ryan laughs into the kiss, breaking it to gulp in air.

“Well if you’re sure?” he teases. Michael laughs, pushing up to kneel on the bed, repositioning Ryan’s hips like it’s nothing. He reaches down, suddenly hesitant, and presses his dry finger to Ryan’s ass. Ryan rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Michael it’s been a little while but I’m not a virgin!” He reaches out toward you and you pass him the tube, sliding closer. “Thanks,” he says grinning and passes it to Michael. “Here, use lots!” he orders. Michael rolls his eyes grinning at you and wetting his fingers. He slides one inside of Ryan, watching him carefully for a reaction. Ryan’s breathing speeds up a notch, but he doesn’t wince. There’s no reaction when Mike adds a second finger. But when he gets to the third, Ryan’s eyes flutter closed, and he tilts his head back against the pillows. “Mike,” he groans. Michael takes a deep steadying breath. You reach down between them sliding the condom onto Michael’s erection, rolling it down to the root, and kissing him on the cheek. He captures your mouth for a brief kiss, before turning back to Ryan.

Michael’s careful as he presses inside, moving slowly and carefully. Ryan’s back arches at the intrusion, and his legs fold around Mike’s waist, pulling him deeper. Michael’s hips press to Ryan’s, and they both seem to freeze for a moment. Ryan lets out this choked sound, and Michael’s hands pull his hips up higher, sliding his dick in a little deeper. They both whimper.

“It’s so hot,” Michael whispers. “Tight and soft at the same time. God…” he trails off, sweat dripping down his forehead. Ryan laughs.

“See why I like fucking you so much, Mikey?” he teases. Mike flushes redder. He leans forward, readjusting his grip on Ryan’s hips.

“I wanna show you why I like getting fucked so much,” he promises in return. Ryan smirks.

“Go ahead. You have my full attention!” That’s one thing you know was intentional. Ryan better than anyone on the planet knows that you don’t challenge Michael to do something unless you want to see it get done. Michael smirks in reply, and rocks his hips quickly away from and then back into Ryan’s. Ryan’s face contorts in pleasured pain, and he lets out a little grunt. Michael repeats the motion beginning to thrust. He fucks into Ryan deeper, faster, pressing in harder each time. Ryan groans, reaching up to grip Michael’s shoulder with one hand and his own thigh with the other. He blinks his eyes open, fixing his eyes on Michael’s. It’s like a tangible rope connects them now. They move together in near silence, neither of them wasting more time on speech, instead letting their bodies do the talking. Ryan shifts his hips, changing he angle just so. Michael reacts by spreading his legs a touch, lowering his pelvis an inch toward the bed, and continuing his thrusts uninterrupted. You’re amazed by how in synch they are, how well they move together. How their muscles flex, and gleam in the light of the hotel room. They’re beautiful together. This was what you have been imagining for weeks, months.

Ryan throws his head back, breaking eye contact. He groans, gripping his own erection and coming across his own stomach. He tenses all over, letting out a stuttered groan and moans Mike’s name. Michael follows closely behind, calling out wordlessly, and groaning loudly. He presses deep, his fingers digging into Ryan’s thighs. He collapses forward, his arms curling under Ryan’s shoulders, and his forehead resting in the middle of Ryan’s heaving chest, Ryan’s arms coming up around him. They lay there like that for a moment, both struggling to breathe, clinging to each other.

You’re not sure which one of them starts giggling first. The sound is strangely familiar, yet different from their usual sounds of mirth. It sounds younger, more carefree. But before you know it, all three of you are laughing and you’re curled up in one big sweaty flushed pile in a hotel room in California.

 

Tim does amazing. He makes the Olympic team. In fact, he qualifies to swim three races at the Olympics. The 100 Back, the 200 Back, and the Backstroke leg of the relay medley. For that race he’ll probably only race in the prelims, but it means a very real chance at a third medal. He’s thrilled. Nancy is ecstatic. Michael, Bob, and Ryan are so proud.

After the meet is over the whole group of you fly home to Baltimore. That’s when the fight over South Africa begins.

Well, it’s not so much a fight as a long sustained argument. There’s no screaming involved, or even really much anger. Michael wants you staying in Baltimore, preferably at his Mother’s house, where she can be there if something happens. You want to go with Ryan and Michael. The Olympic Trials have proven that Tim needs all three of his mentors with him, as his freak-out on day three had proven. Only Ryan had been able to talk him down out of his own head. So that meant you were faced with a choice. Send Mike AND Ryan to South Africa for a solid month, leaving you at home with Michael’s mother and her loving but annoying hovering or go with them. It wasn’t a hard choice. Michael has a lot of good arguments.

You’ll be 7 ½ months pregnant when you leave. 8 ½ months pregnant when you come back. What if the baby comes early? Your reply: All the better for you to be with him during that time.

He talks about how long the flight is, and how uncomfortable you’ll be. Your reply: one long flight of discomfort, and another a month later, or nearly 4 weeks of barely sleeping because he (and Ryan) aren’t there in the bed with you.

He brings up the possibility of the baby being born in South Africa. You bring up the possibility of him missing it entirely. He finally stops arguing with you. You’re sure that you and Ryan giving him dual puppy dog eyes doesn’t hurt.

 

The Olympics are more amazing than anything you’ve ever experienced before in your life. The magnitude, the importance... It’s beyond anything you could ever imagine. You think about Mike, going to and participating in 4 separate games. You think about Ryan going to 3. You think about all the medals they brought home. The years of dedication and pain, and want. It’s amazing to you what they both accomplished, but Michael especially. You see how tired the swimmers are at training, and later in official practices in the week before Opening Ceremonies. You watch Tim go to sleep early each night, and wake up early each morning. You see his focus and his drive, and think to yourself.. “That’s Mike in Sydney.” He’s 15 years old and at his first Olympic Games; just hoping to make it into a final.

Mike and Bob are both on the coaching staff for the games, and spend a lot of time down at the pool, dealing with the swimmers on Team USA. He walks in Opening Ceremonies and Nancy comes up to the suite to watch with you and Ryan. You play spot the swimmer all through the Walk of Nations, trying to point out all of the swimmers, American and non-American, as they walk out. Ryan and Nancy are both much better at that than you are. But you delight in being the first one to spot Michael, even before the TV cameras do. He’s walking with Bob, surrounded by swimmers, Tim nearby, his smile huge. Michael had encouraged him to go; knowing that it was a wonderful experience to walk in the Opening Ceremonies. That Tim’s races were until a few days into the first week had solidified the decision.

Mike gets back to the hotel room late that night and finds you and Ryan curled up in the bed together talking. He takes off his clothes and crawls into the bed exhausted. He curls up behind you, snuggling close. You smile, turning to kiss him. He presses his mouth to yours before going limp against the pillows eyes closing. You laugh quietly shaking your head and turn back over to face Ryan.

“What are we going to do with him?” you ask.

“I don’t know but he’s only going to get more stressed out and hyped up the longer the games go on.” You smile at Ryan’s reply.

“We should have a game plan ready!” you suggest. “What to do when he gets all…” you trail off.

“Up tight?” Ryan finishes. You laugh quietly and nod. “Well sex works pretty well, or we can talk about the baby. That usually gets his mind out of pool pretty quickly!”

“Sounds like a plan. Hey, what is happening on the schedule tomorrow?” you ask. Ryan thinks a minute, rubbing at his eyes as he tries to remember.

“The preliminary races for 4x100 relay and the 400 free. Why?” he asks, yawning. You grin.

“So nothing for Tim?” he shakes his head. “Want to spend the day with me?” you ask. His grin is wide and sincere.

“Sure! What are we doing?” he asks. You laugh a little, lowering your voice when you hear Michael snuffle into the back of your neck.

“I was thinking lunch out, maybe some shopping. But I have an appointment at the local university in the morning and I know Mike wouldn’t appreciate me wandering around Cape Town by myself,” you explain.

“Sure! What kind of appointment?” Ryan asks, turning out the light, and sliding an arm around your waist.

 

Your appointment is at the University of Cape Town. It’s the oldest university in the country, and finding the main library on the schools “Upper Campus” takes a while. It’s a beautiful day out and you’re wearing a pretty sundress Ryan had convinced you to buy before leaving the States. He walks close to you, making conversation and helping you navigate across the grounds. You’re sweating by the time you get to the right building and you’re grateful for the air-conditioning even if it does make you shiver. You’re there to see Fawny Steward, an old friend. You’d met her several years before at a IFLA conference, and had been pen-pals of a sort for a while now. She was the Head Librarian for the University’s biggest and oldest library and you could not let the chance to see her in person again pass you by. Fawny is waiting for you in her office on the second floor. She greets you warmly, with a hug and the offer of tea. You introduce her to Ryan, who is already bored and looking restless where he sits in the corner. You smile at Fawny shaking your head.

“Ryan,” you say with a smile. “This could take a little while. We have tons to catch up on. Do you want to check things out? I can text you when I’m ready to leave,” you offer. He lights up jumping out of his seat.

“You don’t mind?” he asks. You shake your head laughing.

“Of course not. This is librarian stuff. You’ll be bored to tears if you stay. I promise I won’t leave the building without my escort!” He laughs.

“Alright. Ms. Steward, I’m leaving Cathy in your very capable hands. It was nice to meet you,” he shakes her hand a second time, and when he leaves he smiles his most charming smile. Fawny practically swoons and you sit back in your chair laughing loudly at her immediate embarrassment.

“Oh don’t feel bad, honey, he does that to practically every woman he meets!” you explain. She blushes fanning herself a moment longer before turning to you with a glint in her eye.

“So business… Did you read that horrible article Binser tried to get published last month!?” she says practically cackling. You nod, tears of laughter coming to your eyes.

“It was so awful! I couldn’t believe it. I was sure it was some kind of practical joke!” you reply and she nods in agreement. The conversation moves quickly, as it always does. You discuss recent articles, current issues in your shared field of Academic Librarianship, she recommends some good books to flush out the Towson Libraries South African culture and Social History sections, and you ask after her husband and daughter. She fills you in on everything before asking about Michael and the baby. You explain about Tim, and gush about your coming child. She listens intently, smiling and nodding. She’d had her first child two years before. She knows exactly what you’re going through. When she asks about the baby’s possible names you shrug.

“Who knows? We have a boy’s name picked out but nothing yet for a girl. I think I’ve been through three different baby name books. We can’t find anything we really like though!” you sigh, slumping in your seat. “I can’t tell if that means were definitely having a boy, or that we are having a girl, and she’ll inspire us once she’s here. I just don’t want to end up with a name we hate.” Fawny nods.

“It’s so hard to choose a name sometimes. We had to wait until Ona was here. Then when we saw her we just knew!” she says. You smile at her nodding.

“But had you at least narrowed it down to a few options before she came, hadn’t you?” you ask. Fawny’s whole face lights up.

“Yes! I found a book, and we found several we liked in it,” she stands up out of her chair to walk to the bookshelves lining the back wall of her office. Scanning quickly, she produces a think green book. “Here,” she says handing it over. It’s a book of lesser known culturally significant names from around the world. You flip through the different sections. Fawny nods, pointing out a small slip of paper marking one page.

“Onaedo,” you read, “Afrikaan. Meaning golden.” She nods.

“She had the most beautiful golden eyes when she was born,” Fawny says, handing over a framed photo. You look at the baby picture, a close-up taken the first day at the hospital. Ona is beautiful, with golden brown eyes that look almost like butterscotch. “It was the perfect name for her. Have faith, you and Mike will find the right name when the time is right.” Her eyes catch on the wall above the door. “Oh my!” she says. “The time!” You follow her gaze. You’ve been talking for hours.

“Oh I’m so sorry! You have other meetings and things to do,” you stand up from your seat awkwardly. She waves away your apology.

“Time flies when you are with those you love!” she says hugging you again.

“So we’re set for dinner at the end of the week?” you ask.

“Only if you bring Ryan. Boy is cute. And I want to meet this Tim. Who knows… we might be celebrating his medaling,” she says grinning widely. You nod. You straighten out the hem of your dress and hold out the book to her. She pushes it back into your hands. “Keep it for the week. You and Mike flip through it when you have time. Maybe you will find something you like, eh?” You laugh, thanking her, and scooping up your purse. Pulling out your phone you text Ryan to meet you in the Lobby and with one more smile and brief hug you are out the door, headed toward the library lobby. Ryan is waiting for you when you get there. He greets you with an iced coffee and a hug.

“What did you do while I was occupied?” you ask, taking his arm and letting him lead you out into the midday sun. He smiles.

“A little of this and a little of that. Bought you something,” he says teasingly. You hold up the iced coffee but he shakes his head. He pulls something from his pocket and hands it over. It’s a bookmark for the University of Cape Town, the very library you’d just exited, printed across its front, with the University’s logo embossed at the top. You light up, smiling, and leaning over to kiss his cheek. “It’s beautiful!” you say, pressing it into a random page of Fawny’s baby name book and sliding the whole thing into your purse. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, retaking his arm. “So lunch?” you offer. He nods, leading you toward your rented car with a sense of direction you envy.

“And then, shopping!” he says with a grin. You laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walk. So far it’s been a great day even if it is hotter than you’d like.

 

A heat wave has descended on the Olympics, all of South Africa suffering through unseasonably warm temperatures. It was supposed to be the cool season in the Southern Hemisphere. Instead you’re facing Day 3 at temperatures in the high 90s, low 100s. You’re uncomfortable and sticky and sort of grouchy. So on day Day 4 of the actual games Michael returns from Tim’s last practice session to a room that’s nearly silent except for the whir of fans and your groans of discomfort. He finds you spread across the bed, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. Ryan, wanting to be helpful has supplied you with wet washcloths and a bucket of ice. He’s also ordered you a new raspberry smoothie every hour on the hour all day. Taking them away when they melt too much too qualify for a smoothie anymore. You’re on number 5 at the moment, and doing nothing but sucking on the pink straw and staring up at the bedroom ceiling. Michael looks at you in concern, before glancing down at Ryan, who is likewise undressed and equally sweaty. He’s spread out on the middle of the bedroom floor, banished from the bed for being “too damn hot” to lay next too, and is therefore sprawled out across the carpeting in nothing but his boxers, finishing the remains of your smoothie number 4. It’s a team effort. Waste not. Want not.

“You guys ok?” Mike asks, moving toward you slowly. He braces himself beside you, bending down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I wouldn’t’ touch her if I were you,” Ryan warns from the floor. Michael turns to look at him in confusion. “She’s grumpy!” he says with a smile. Mike turns to look at you. You make a show of scowling, bright pink straw still pressed between your lips.

“Cathy?” Michael says. He leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips, being careful not to touch any part of your bare skin. Your eyes light up in reply. You grin, dropping the act and tugging him down by his t-shirt for another longer kiss.

“Hi,” you say. He smiles at you, readjusting his position to kiss you again, but you shake your head. “Love you. Go away!” his face turns surprised and then hurt.

“Go away?” he asks. You give him puppy dog eyes.

“I’d love to make out with you right now. But I am this close,” you hold up your thumb and forefinger, a half an inch apart, “to jumping on a plane back to Baltimore. So don’t even think about touching me, Mr. Space Heater!” you say. He laughs in response, pecking you on lips again before throwing his hands in the air and standing from the bed.

“What about a nice cool bath?” he offers. Your eyes light up, and you accept his hand as he pulls you into a seated position. “Wait here. I’ll get it going.” You smile down at Ryan who waves at you from his place on the floor. You turn to watch Mike strip off his own t-shirt throwing it toward your growing pile of laundry. He jogs into the bathroom and you turn to look at Ryan. He sits up on the floor meeting your eyes and making a face. You sigh and nod. He raises an eyebrow and you grin. When Mike comes back out, the two of you have effectively made a plan, all without saying a word. Mike takes you into the bathroom, getting you stripped down and into the water safely. You sigh as you sink back into the cool water. It’s not cold really, just sort of lukewarm, but it feels so good. You groan sinking in until only your head is above the water, your hair pinned up and dry. Michael laughs. He strips his gym shorts off, kicking off his shoes and socks, and slumping down to sit on the closed toilet lid in just his boxers. He smiles at you and you smile back.

“Better?” he asks. You nod. Ryan comes in a minute later, he sits on the edge of the tub next to you handing over a freshly delivered raspberry smoothie, before sliding down to sit on the end of the tub next to the wall. You laugh in response. You really do have them both wrapped around your little finger. You take it from him with a polite “Thank you!” and hand the other one back over. He grins, popping the lid off and gulping down about half of it in one gulp. Mike laughs at both of you.

“How was practice?” you ask. You use your free hand to drizzle water over the very top of your baby belly, which is poking up out of the water. Mike sighs, one hand coming up to grip the back of his own neck.

“Practice was… practice. Tim swims tomorrow and he’s stressed. Trying hard not to freak out, and Bob and I are doing our very best to not let him. I think we should all have dinner together tonight, if you think you’re up for it. I think he needs normalcy, to help keep him calm,” Michael says. You nod. You reach up to nudge Ryan with one wet foot. Tim is not the only one who is stressed and borderline freaking out. Ryan nods. He snatches your foot up pulling it into his lap to start rubbing it. You moan, sinking down lower in the tub. Michael watches you both with a smile. You suck on your smoothie waiting for someone to say something. Your toes twitch against Ryan’s palm, but he stays silent. You roll your eyes; smiling at Michael.

“So… Ryan wants to know if he can fuck you?” you say. Michael’s jaw drops open and he makes a sort of shocked choking sound. Ryan’s hand tightens on your foot, his thumb pressing just right to the arch. A wave of pleasure shoots through your system and you let out an involuntary groan that sounds strangely reminiscent of the one Mike had just made. Ryan grins at you shaking his head with amusement. He presses the spot again and watches you shiver. Your face flushes, your toes curling.

“Oh he does, does he?” Michael pipes up. You gasp again, pulling your foot from Ryan’s grasp, sliding it back into the water just out of his reach, and turning to look at Michael who is grinning at you, amusement shining in his eyes. You sit up out of the water some, clearing your throat.

“Yes he does. And I,” you pause here to smile your most seductive smile. “I want to watch.” Mike laughs, his face turning red and you know you’ve already won. Michael turns to look at Ryan, who grins at him a bit wolfishly. Mike’s breath catches and he nods.

“I think that can be arranged,” he says. He stands up off the toilet lid, and grabs up a towel. “Come on, lets get you out of there and we’ll see what Ryan and I can come up with.” Ryan reaches down to let the water out of the tub, taking your smoothie from you and leaving the bathroom. Mike helps you up, steadying you until you’re safely standing. He rubs you dry with the towel, stopping to kiss key parts of your body until you complain that you don’t want to get all over-heated again. He laughs again, shaking his head, and leading you back out of the bathroom.

You find Ryan standing next to the bed. He’s got the curtains closed against the setting sun, and the bed stripped down to the sheets. He smiles as you both approach, patting the bed and taking your hand.

“For you,” he says. You giggle, sitting down and getting comfy, curling up on your side ready to watch, a towel wrapped around you. Ryan drags Michael to the other side of the bed. Michael rolls his eyes, looking embarrassed at the way you’re all making a show of this. Everything usually just happens naturally. It’s making him self-conscious. Ryan stops him from sitting, instead dragging Mike’s head down to meet his in a kiss. It’s an aggressive kiss, Ryan’s hands holding him close, their mouths moving and working together. Their tongues tangle and it only takes a few seconds before Mike gives in, yielding to Ryan the way you’ve seen him do dozens of times in the last few months.

Ryan breaks the kiss, and Mike pants in response as he lets himself be shoved down on to the bed beside you. Ryan climbs in after him, sitting astride Michael’s lap, and leaning down over him. Mike presses up against him, hands tugging at curls and shoulders to pull him closer. Ryan chuckles, his teeth tugging at Mike’s bottom lip, before taking his mouth again. He reaches down to slide one hand under Mike’s boxers’ waistband to grip his erection. Mike responds by tugging at Ryan’s boxer briefs a bit frantically. He flexes his hips, pulling Ryan’s hips into his own. Ryan breaks the kiss again sitting back to drag Mike’s underwear down and to kick his own off too. When he lowers himself back down, he leaves room for you to see, offsetting his body so that Mike’s is almost completely visible to you. You’re struck again by how beautiful they both are.

Mike’s hard, his erection heavy and long against his belly. He’s sweating already, body flushing red with his arousal. Your thighs clench a little in reaction, watching them. Ryan bites down Mike’s chin, and throat, careful not to leave visible marks on his skin. He pauses to nip at one of Mike’s nipples, and gets a loud grunt in reply. He moves downward again licking and kissing across Mike’s belly, until he reaches his erection. That he takes into his mouth, making Mike’s hips flex and his mouth open in a low moan. Mike’s hands go to Ryan’s hair, sliding into his curls and tugging. You hum in appreciation, swallowing the saliva flooding your mouth. Ryan sucks, groaning around Mike’s dick. He holds Mike’s hips to the mattress, keeping them pinned as his cheeks hollow and Mike cries out in pleasure. Your husband’s wound up. He’s so ready for it that he has to stop Ryan. He tugs at Ryan’s curls, pulling at his head.

“Stop, Ry. Stop,” he pants between each word. Ryan pulls away, his reluctance obvious, as he moves back up the bed. He kisses Mike, his mouth wet and a little bruised. Mike whines a little, licking into his mouth. It’s Mike who breaks the kiss. “Fuck me?” he asks, his tone pleading. Ryan nods, backing away. He reaches for the drawer in the side table, pulling out the tube of lube and a condom packet. You and Mike watch him rip the foil packet open, rolling it down his own dick, before turning back to Mike. He taps him on the hip.

“Roll over. If we’re gonna give Cathy a show, we should at least make it a good one!” he smirks as he says it, making you laugh and slide a few inches closer in anticipation. Mike rolls his eyes, but complies, carefully rolling onto his stomach and pushing up onto his hands and knees. He takes a moment with his eyes closed to catch his breath, and when he opens them again he looks straight at you. Your breath catches at the look in his eyes, pleasure spiking through your system. You press closer to him without even realizing it. He smiles, catching your hand with his, and squeezing it. His eyes close with sudden pleasure as Ryan starts to prep him. It doesn’t take much, not anymore. As you’ve gotten bigger it’s become increasingly difficult to have sex comfortably. In response you’ve encouraged Michael to turn to Ryan more often. You’re never ignored, and always involved, even if it’s not you getting fucked all that often anymore. He takes two fingers immediately, a third just a few strokes later. Then Ryan is pressing his dick inside. Michael groans, and you echo it. They’re so hot together. Tingles race down your spine at the sights and sounds on display before you.

Ryan knows Mike’s body. He can see and feel just how revved up Mike is, and he takes mercy on him. He rocks his hips, starting to thrust. The angle is perfect, hitting Michael’s prostate with each forward push. He moves quickly, almost punishing, using a fast hard rhythm that has Mike’s hand tightening minutely in yours, and his jaw dropping open. He groans, crying out with each slam into his ass, his body quaking and tensing. It doesn’t take long before Mike is coming, his jaw clenched and a gutteral groan pulled from deep in his throat. Ryan laughs, letting him collapse to lay across the bed, Mike’s face landing near your shoulder. You lean over to press a kiss to his forehead, smoothing back his sweaty hair. Ryan resumes his previous pace, making Mike whine a little low in his throat, but it’s not long before he comes too.

Ryan stays pressed inside of Mike for a moment, before pulling out, and getting up to get rid of the condom. That’s when Mike picks his head up to smile at you. You blink at him for a moment, not sure why he’s looking at you quite like that. But it doesn’t take long to figure it out. He moves over on top of you, pressing close and kissing up your neck to take your mouth. You sigh against him, letting your hands go to his shoulders. You’re turned on, and you want him suddenly a bit desperately, but you also aren’t looking forward to having the heat of him pressed all along your body for any extended period of time. You whine a little, already feeling suffocated. He grins against your lips, pulling back to kiss down the length of your throat, across your swollen breasts, and down over the stretched skin of your baby bump. You gasp, clutching at his shoulders as he continues lower, kissing across your sex. He spreads your thighs, the cooler air of the room circling around you and making your skin tingle. Michael knows just where to kiss and lick, how hard to press with his fingers and tongue to get you off.

“Oh,” you breathe, spreading your thighs further. One of your hands slides up Mike’s neck into his hair. He does that thing with his tongue and your clit that you love so much, pressing up inside of you with two fingers. It only takes a few minutes before you’re panting, pulling your knees up higher, and pressing down on his head. He laughs, the sound muffled and amused, and you buck against him, groaning and coming in long spasms around his fingers. He mouth keeps moving, pressing against you until you cry out, oversensitive, tugging him away. He sits up, wiping at his mouth, and grinning down at you. You laugh, hands coming up and covering your flushed face. You press your legs together, curling up in embarrassment on your side. But Michael doesn’t let you. He pulls your hands away from your face, pressing a kiss to your burning cheek.

“Take a nap. I’ll wake you in a little bit,” he says. You nod, smiling at him, and suddenly unable to keep your eyes open. His grinning face is the last thing you see before you pass out. You wake to light kisses trailing down your bare arm. You laugh, turning to look. Mike laughs at you. He’s already dressed in a polo shirt and khaki pants. Ryan is leaning over his shoulder making a face, and you groan, arching your back and covering a yawn. There’s a sheet over you, the room cooler with the sun finally set.

“Ready to wake up?” Ryan asks. You nod, sitting up in the bed. Mike takes your hand and you wrap the sheet around you in sudden shyness. Ryan rolls his eyes.. “Go take a quick shower. Our dinner reservation downstairs is in a half an hour!” he calls out as you disappear into the bathroom.

When you exit the bathroom, you find one of the nicer sundresses you’d brought with you spread out on the bed, sparkly flats laid out next to it. Ryan is dressed and sitting on the end of the bed watching TV. You sit down next to him in your bathrobe.

“This your doing?” you ask running a hand down the front of the pale purple dress. He nods, not taking his eyes off the TV.

“If I left it for you to pick out something we’d never make the reservation,” he says flipping the channel. You laugh again, smacking him in the arm and going to the dresser to start getting ready.

The three of you are only 5 minutes late to dinner. Tim and Nancy are already seated at the table, and greet you all warmly. You sit beside Nancy, with Mike on your left, Tim sitting tucked between his two idols, and Bob, joining you all a few minutes later, settling in between Nancy and Ryan.

Dinner is a leisurely affair. Bob lets Tim indulge in a big hamburger and fries, and you watch him attack the plate like a starving man. You eat your chicken alfredo with similar relish, cooing over the desert menu after the main course has been eaten.

“They have cheesecake!” you cry making everyone at the table laugh out loud in answer. You convince Nancy to be bad and get a piece too. You order chocolate cheesecake, and she orders strawberry. Midway through desert she looks at yours and you look at hers, and without a word you switch plates, causing all the men at the table to laugh again in amusement. As desert is wrapping up, the discussion on the male side of the table turns to the next day’s races. No one mentions Tim’s racing in the 200 backstroke preliminary the next morning. Instead discussion focuses on the other races being swum that day. Predictions over who would qualify and who would medal fly back and forth and you turn to Nancy with an indulgent smile. She just shakes her head.

“I don’t know how you put up with all this swim talk day in and day out,” she says, sipping her decaf coffee. You sigh.

“It can be a hardship, but then I remember the trips to exotic locales, the hot hard bodies running around in swim-briefs all day, and suddenly I don’t mind so much,” you say with a sniff. She laughs again, and you join her. A sharp achey pain in your lower back has you groaning, and pressing a hand back there. Nancy looks at you a bit critically.

“How are you feeling, dear?” she asks. You smile, rubbing the spot and shrugging your shoulders.

“Good. Just tired mostly. The baby’s not due for another 4 weeks. But I think I’m getting tired of being pregnant. I don’t see how I could possibly get any bigger,” you say, sitting up straighter, and pressing your hand to your belly.

“Four weeks, huh?” she asks sipping her coffee. “I bet you are getting tired, let me know if you need anything at all during these last few weeks. I’ve been where you are 3 times before after all,” she says. You roll your eyes playfully.

“Of course. Thank you. I just wish this heat wave would let up. I’m so miserable. I must have had a half dozen frozen smoothies today!” she laughs again.

“At least here at a hotel you can have food delivered. You don’t have to do your own laundry, cook your own meals, or clean your own room! I think all pregnant women should get to spend the last month put up in a posh hotel like this one. Would make things a lot less stressful!” she says. You chuckle at the notion.

“We should start a fund. The Cathy Phelps Women Need a Pre-partum Vacation Fund. For giving women a much needed break before the real job starts,” you say. She cracks up beside you, toasting to that idea, with her water glass.

 

You find it hard to sleep that night. Your back aches. You think maybe you slept wrong during your nap earlier the day before. It hadn’t been bothering you all that much in general. But it’s hard to get comfortable. You have to keep getting up to pee, and when you lay down, the baby kicks you in the kidneys over and over again until you get up again. The walking seems to sooth him or her. Ryan gets up to walk with you, Mike passed out in the middle of the bed.

“You ok?” Ryan asks whispering. You nod, pacing from one end of the living room to the other.

“Oh, I’m fine!” you say waving off his concern. “Just tired. I don’t think the baby liked that pasta at dinner tonight. Every time I lay down, I get kicked in a vital organ.” He keeps pace beside you, walking back and forth without complaint until the baby seems to quiet down, the kicking slowing to a stop. He leads you back to the bed, pulling back the covers for you and helping you get comfortable on your side. He covers you with the light sheet, it’s still too warm for a blanket, and waits a few minutes to make sure the baby isn’t going to wake up again, before climbing in on Mike’s other side. You reach across Mike’s bare back to take Ryan’s hand in yours. He props his head up and smiles at you.

“Thank you, Ryan,” you whisper. His smile spreads out into a big grin.

“Nothing to thank me for,” he says. You shake your head.

“Yes there is,” you argue. You squeeze his hand. “You’ve been great this whole pregnancy. I’m so glad you’re still with us, it wouldn’t be the same without you,” you explain. He turns a little red, his grin turning cocky.

“I am one-of-a-kind,” he says in reply. You muffle a laugh.

“This baby will be lucky to have Ryan Lochte looking out for him or her,” you say.

“Jeah?” he says. You nod. He grins so big you’re afraid his face will split in half. He leans over, Mike’s back, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Sleep well, babe,” he says, lying back down. You curl on your side, one hand pressing to the curve of your belly, the other pillowing your head. And finally you manage to fall asleep.

 

You wake to a whispered conversation happening on the other side of the bed.

“…didn’t sleep very well. She was up half the night. Baby wouldn’t go to sleep until almost 5am,” Ryan whispers.

“Why didn’t you guys wake me up? I’d have stayed up with her,” that was Mike’s voice, sounding hurt.

“Because you have a very big very busy day ahead of you,” you answer, yawning and stretching awake. The pain in your back flares up again and you groan. When you blink your eyes open both Ryan and Mike are looking at you with worry. “Stop it! I’m fine!” you say, tugging the sheet back up over your shoulder. You yawn again.

“We’re only doing training up first, a few drills to get Tim warmed up before the prelim, you want to stay here, catch up on some sleep?” Michael asks. You frown but nod.

“He swims at 11:30am, right?” you ask. You glance at the clock it’s not quite 8 yet. Mike nods, he reaches down pushing the hair back off your forehead, leaning down to give you your good morning kiss.

“You stay here in bed. Order some room service. I’ll expect you both at the pool around 11?” he says. Ryan nods, flopping back down on the bed and reaching for the TV remote. You roll your eyes making a face. Mike just smirks. “Stay out of trouble, and don’t forget your tickets. You won’t be able to get in on your name alone!” he says with a grin. You laugh, nodding. He kisses you again, before climbing out of the bed, over Ryan, who protests loudly at his obstructed view of the TV. Mike bats at him with one big hand, getting smacked for his trouble before heading into the bathroom to get ready for his day. You don’t hear him leave, already back asleep.

You don’t wake for almost two and a half hours. The smell of sausage and bacon is the first thing you notice. The second thing is a sharp painful cramp in your side. You hiss, pressing on the spot. Ryan perks up from the other side of the bed.

“Oh good, you’re finally awake. I’m starving,” he hops out of bed, going to the covered tray resting near the wall. “I ordered breakfast. Scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, and some pancakes. A little bit of everything. What do you want to eat?” he asks. You don’t answer him, a second cramp has followed the first, and a gush of liquid between your legs has you sitting up in a panic. Ryan turns toward you. “Cathy?” he asks. You whip the sheets back, looking down to where your nightgown is soaked through.

“Something’s wrong!” you say. You claw at the nightgown, looking carefully at the white sheets. There’s red, and you feel your heart skip a beat. “Something is wrong!” you shout. Ryan’s at your side in an instant.

“Fuck! Ok. Ok. Breathe!” he says. He reaches for the phone. He dials the front desk. “Yes this is Suite 1012. We need an ambulance for Mrs. Phelps. Tell them she’s 8 months pregnant and something is wrong. Yes. Yes.” He hangs up the phone going into the closet. He returns to the bed with a clean dress for you to wear. “They’re on the way,” he says. You look up at him, frozen in fear. He stops moving, kneeling down next to you and taking your hands in his. “It will be ok. We can’t panic. Ok?” he asks. You nod.

“There’s blood. Ryan it’s too soon! It’s too soon!” you cry, tears coursing down your cheeks. His hands are steady in yours.

“We don’t know anything. I need you to breathe, and to be calm. Can you do that?” he asks. You nod, feeling shakey. “Ok. Lets get you changed. The paramedics will be here any minute.” He lifts you up out of the wet spot, carrying you to the other side of the bed. He helps you strip off the wet night gown and slip on the dress. It’s roomy, but covers you, and that’s all you care about just then. You’re leaning back on pillows, your eyes closed, and your hands pressed to your belly. The baby is moving inside of you. That you decide is the most reassuring feeling in the world right now. But the horrible cramps keep coming. Contractions your tired mind supplies. You’re having contractions.

Ryan sits next to you on the bed, holding your hand, and frantically dialing one number after another on his cell.

“Fuck. Answer the damn phone,” he mumbles. There’s a banging on the suite door, and Ryan jumps up to go get it. He’s back a few seconds later with several paramedics, a stretcher, and the manager of the hotel, who looks at you worriedly. Ryan pulls him from the room, whispering to him quietly. You turn your eyes to the paramedics, who speak to you kindly, asking what the problem is. 10 minutes and 2 contractions later you’re being helped onto the stretcher, and wheeled from the room. Ryan snags up your purse and cell, following quickly behind. They load you into the ambulance at the rear of the hotel, as much for your privacy as for the peace of mind of the other guests. Ryan climbs up beside you, looking frazzled. He’s back on his cell dialing frantically. You grip his hand tightly, breathing deeply as the paramedic instructs you too. Your look up at Ryan when he starts cursing again.

“None of them will answer their fucking phones!” he growls, getting a dark look from the two paramedics. He scowls at them. “Focus on her, please. I’m just trying to get a hold of her husband,” he says, looking back at his phone. You turn his wrist toward you, reading the watch face upside down. You shake your head.

“It’s 11:15, Ryan. You know Bob and Mike always turn their cells off half an hour before a race. No distractions,” you remind him. He nods.

“Yes, but why isn’t Nancy picking up?” he asks. You picture her, sitting in the crowd, surrounded by fans from every country imaginable. You’d been to races earlier in the week. You knew how loud they could get.

“She’s in the thick of the crowd, she probably can’t hear it, OH!” you curl up a little at another contraction. Ryan shuts his phone, reaching for you. You groan. “Oh God. I need Michael here. But Tim’s about to swim. Ryan what should we do?” he looks torn.

“I can go get him?” he says, looking out the window. Your hand tightens on his and you shake your head.

“No way! You aren’t leaving me! I can’t go through this alone!” you say beginning to cry again. He moves closer, sliding his arm around your shoulders.

“Ok! We’ll think of something else, don’t worry!” he says. You lean against him. He’s such a good friend. That’s when it hits you.

“Call Aaron!” you say, with a gasp. Ryan looks at you confused, but starts scrolling through his numbers. “He’s got that kid from Cali on the team doesn’t he? The 17 year old. The one Tim is always coming in second behind…” you say between deep breaths. He nods. “He’ll be there for the prelims, and he doesn’t turn his phone off because he’s not an idiot. When his wife calls he’s ready for it, no matter what. He puts it on vibrate, but he always answers!” you say. Comprehension dawns in Ryan’s face.

“He can go get Mike!” he says with enthusiasm, starting to dial. You squeeze his hand.

“Tell him to tell Mike after the race. It’s only another 10 minutes,” you say. Ryan frowns but nods.

He presses send, and puts the phone on speaker. It rings and rings again. Four times before it’s answered.

“Lochte? What are you trying to do? Psych out the competition?” Aaron asks. Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Hey Peirsol. The prelim start yet?” he asks.

“What? You aren’t here yet? I’m surprised to hear that!” Aaron says.

“Just answer the damn question, Aaron!” Ryan snaps.

“No, the race hasn’t started yet. They’re set to walk out in 2 minutes. So I gotta go,” Aaron answers, sounding anxious.

“No, I need you to do something for me!”

“I don’t have time for this Ryan,” Aaron replies.

“Shut up and listen. Cathy and I are on the way to the hospital. We think she’s in early labor. Mike has his phone off. We need you to tell him so he can get here!” Ryan explains. There’s silence on the other end of the line.

“No joke?” Aaron says. Ryan sighs.

“No, Aaron. No joke. I wouldn’t joke about this. Just do me a favor. As soon as the race is over, have Mike call Cathy ASAP. Tell him it’s an emergency!” he orders.

“Of course, man. Are you sure you don’t want me to get him now?” he asks. Ryan shakes his head.

“Cathy doesn’t want to ruin the prelim for Tim. It’ll only delay things by another 5 minutes. Just grab him as soon as the race is over, ok?” he asks.

“Definitely. Shit. They’re calling for the racers. Good luck, man. Tell Cathy we’ll all be praying for her!” Aaron says.

“Thanks man, bye.”As soon as the call is over you let out another groan, squeezing Ryan’s hand again. “The hospital is only a few minutes from the Aquatic Center. He’ll be with us in no time!” Ryan says trying to reassure you. You nod, putting your head back and trying not to cry.

 

You’re in the emergency room being checked over when Michael calls. Ryan steps out into the hallway. He’s back a minute later. He gives you the thumbs up, but you’re too busy trying not to cry out with pain to return it.

“He’s on his way, 10 minutes tops!” Ryan says retaking your hand.

“She might not have that long,” the doctor says. “You’re already 9 cm dilated. This baby wants to be born. We don’t have time to take you upstairs even,” he says. You look at him in horror.

“No. No I’m only 8 months pregnant. It’s too soon. You were supposed to stop the labor!” you practically yell. He winces.

“I’m sorry. You’re too far along in labor. Your membranes have already ruptured. You water broke back at the hotel. This baby is already down in position and you are dilated. This baby is coming. Now I need you to relax and breathe,” he urges. You want to climb out of the stirrups and strangle him. He must see something in your face because he backs away quickly. Ryan grabs up your hand, and you turn to look at him.

“Cathy. It’ll be ok!” he says.

“You keep saying that Ryan, but this is not ok. I can’t have this baby a month early, in a foreign country, without Michael here. That’s three things wrong at one time!” you cry, sobs racking your body. Ryan looks momentarily panicked. But he wipes at your sweaty forehead as chaos erupts around you.

“You can’t think about all that stuff right now. You need to focus on the positive. The baby is 8 months. That’s really far along. You’re in a hospital with trained medical staff. And Mike is only minutes away. You are going to have this baby and it is going to be healthy and just as beautiful as you are. Because God help them if they get Mike’s weird ass aquaman proportions! One funny looking Phelps is more than enough!” Ryan jokes. You laugh, breaking it off with a short yell as another contraction hits. You squeeze his hand. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. You nods, breathing in short quick bursts. It’s like a million things happen at once. Everyone puts on gowns. They get you out of your dress and into a gown of your own. They even put Ryan in a funny looking green outfit, with a net for his hair. You laugh at him for a solid minute before you start to cry again.

“Oh Ryan! He has to be here. He just has to be here!” you say between sobs. He shushes you again.

“You need to focus on the baby. He’ll be here!” he promises. You shake your head. You know there isn’t any more time. The doctor checks you again. He takes a deep breath.

“Cathy, you need to push,” he says. You shake your head, putting your chin back, tears running back into your hairline. Ryan squeezes your hand.

“Cathy,” he pleads. You nod, letting them pull you up into a seated position. “Good Girl,” Ryan says, his arm going around behind you for support, his other hand taking yours.

“Now, push!” the doctor orders. You grit your teeth and you push. When you can’t push any longer you get to rest for a second and catch your breath. “Again!” he orders. You bear down again, pushing with all your strength. Then a third time and a fourth. It seems to go on forever. And it hurts. More than anything you’ve ever experienced in your life and you collapse back against the mattress crying with the pain.

“I can’t do this. I need Mike,” you cry. You feel pathetic, and weak. Ryan shakes his head.

“You can do this! You can do this for Mike! Your baby wants to be born. You can’t give up now!” he says. He helps them pull you up again. “Now push, Cathy!” he orders and you do. Two more pushes and the pain changes, becoming more immediate and stronger. It’s not ebbing anymore. That’s when the door flies open, and Michael is there. Two guys reaching for him.

“Sir! You can’t go in there!” one says. Mike’s across the room in 3 long strides, and you reach for him, desperate for him to be there.

“It’s my wife!” Michael snaps.

“Michael!” you cry, scrabbling for him with both hands. He gets his arm around you, his hand in yours. His mouth presses to yours and you sob against him.

“I’m here. I’m here, Baby. It’s ok. It’s ok!” he says. He nods at Ryan over your head, and Ryan’s arm slides out from around your other side. You scramble to stop him.

“No, stay! Ryan has to stay!” you argue.

“But Mike’s here..” you cut him off.

“Do not argue with the woman in labor!” you scream. That shuts up everyone. You cry out in pain again. And everyone is suddenly back in motion. Two nurses shoo off the security men. Another wrestles Mike into a gown, and within seconds he’s back next to you. You grip his hand and nod. You’re ready now. Then you reach for Ryan’s hand again. He nods, reaching back.

 

Your daughter is born just before noon, at 11:57am, in a hospital in Cape Town, South Africa. The first person to get to hold her is her Daddy, who you watch through exhausted bleary eyes, as he cries at the sight of her bright red squished up face.

“She’s so beautiful,” he whispers and you laugh. He hands her to you, and you look at your daughter for the first time. She’s perfect. Small, but absolutely perfect.

A preemie they call her. Born 3 weeks early but healthy and with strong lungs. The two of you are to stay in the hospital for at least a few days, before being released, and you know it will be even longer before you're cleared to fly all the way home.

It’s 12 hours later, nearing midnight that you get to hold her again. You’d slept for a few hours, place a horrendously long phone call to the states to tell Debbie she was a grandmother again, and had a light meal. And now you are holding your baby in your arms again for the second time. She’s been cleaned up and wrapped up tightly, but you take great delight in unwrapping her like a tiny present. You cradle her in the valley of your legs, Michael leaning over the bed on your right, and Ryan on the left so you can collectively investigate every inch of her together.

You count each of her tiny toes, and each of her little fingers. She makes little fists, blinking open eyes to look at you with big unfocused dark brown eyes. Michael’s eyes. You smooth your finger tips over every bare inch of baby soft skin. She’s really here, and you don’t, you suddenly realize, have a name for her.

“Fuck!” you whisper, clamping a hand over your mouth and looking down at your daughter in apology. She stares up at the ceiling and yawns, and Mike and Ryan both laugh at your reaction. Mike reaches over to offer her a finger tip. Her tiny hand barely fits around it, but she squeezes it back making him smile.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“We don’t have a name. We never came up with a girl’s name!” you say. Michael makes a fist.

“We’ll think of something. Stop stressing. We have plenty of time!” he says. You make a face.

“That’s what we told ourselves for 8 months. Now look at us. We have a daughter who’s 12 hours old already, and she still doesn’t have a name!” you argue back. Ryan yawns, stretching his arms above his head. He stands up, popping his back and scratching his belly.

“I’m going to let you guys argue about this while I go get coffee. Who wants something?” he asks. Mike asks for something with caffeine but you shake your head, focusing back on your daughter.

“Nothing thanks,” you say. Ryan smiles at you.

“You did great today, Mama!” he says kissing you on the cheek, and running a gentle finger down the back of the baby’s head. You smile watching him leave. Michael stands up, squeezing up into the bed with you. You wrap the baby up again, lifting her into your arms, and scooting over to make room. His arm slides around you.

“You really did do great. I wish I had gotten here sooner,” he says quietly. You rest your head on his shoulder, his arm coming around to help support the baby. You sigh.

“You were here during the most important part. Ryan was great. I couldn’t have gotten through it without him,” you say. He nods, smiling. “He is so going to be one of her Godfathers,” you breathe. He laughs.

“I agree. After today he definitely earned that spot,” he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. “I love you so much,” he says quietly. You smile, holding your baby close to your heart.

“I love you too!” you reply. Michael grins, looking back at the baby.

“Hey, maybe Tim can help us think of something. He wants to come by tomorrow. Show off his Bronze, meet the baby. He told me to tell you that he knows you would have been there if you could have been and he’s not mad at you. But you have to let him come visit to make up for it,” Michael explains. You laugh with delight.

“I can’t believe he medaled! I know he’s good. And I’ve always had faith in him, but medaling at his first Olympics!?” you shake your head. “You’d think not having you there for the race would have made him less confident.” Michael shrugs.

“Apparently I make him nervous. He said people expect more of him when I’m standing at the side of the pool during a race,” he laughs. “So I think next meet I’ll go with him to the competition, be there for practice, and then disappear for the actual races. Seems to have worked today,” he says with a laugh.

“Well either way I’m so proud of him. He is more than welcome to visit tomorrow.”

 

The next time you wake up, you’re alone in the room. Well mostly alone. The baby sleeps in an incubator on the other side of the room and you smile at her from where you lay, so happy to see she wasn’t a dream. A nurse arrives a few minutes later and you ask to hold the baby. She slides the incubator across the room to sit beside the bed. Handing you your daughter, and walking you through the steps to breast feed. You done it once the night before, but it’s still new. Then she leaves you alone with your little girl.

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling down at her. “Do you remember me?” you ask. She can’t focus her eyes let alone smile, but her tiny fist comes up to press against your heart and she seems to press her body against you, wigging closer. You grin at her. “I love you so much. And there are so many people who are going to take such good care of you. There’s Daddy, and Uncle Ryan, and Aunt Hilary, and Aunt Whitney. And Uncle Bob. And Grandma Debbie. And Grandpa,” you pause than. You want to add your father’s name to the list, but you can’t make a promise if you aren’t sure you can keep it. So you sigh and then with a grin you add “And Grandpa Bob,” you think Bob will get a kick out of Michael’s daughter calling him grandpa. You think Mike will get a kick out of it too. “And me,” you say then, “your Mommy. Who loves you more than anything in the whole world, even more than books. And Mommy really really loves books!” you explain. That’s when you remember the baby name book Fawny had given you. Your purse is tucked away in the closet. When the nurse returns to put the baby down to sleep, you ask her to fetch it for you. She does so with a smile, and even leaves the incubator over by the bed where you can see her up close and personal. You thank her profusely, digging through your purse to find the book. It’s sunk to the bottom of your bag but you find it after only a few moments searching.

The red strings of your University of Cape Town bookmark hanging out the top make you smile, and you open the book to the randomly marked page. Scanning through the names there, you find one that catches your attention. You sink lower in the bed, a huge smile stretching over your face.

Keyara (Afrikaan) – Beautiful River

You turn to look at your daughter, carefully turning over onto your side to face her.

“Keyara,” you whisper, smiling at the way it flows out of your mouth. It’s perfect. Now you just have to convince Michael.

He walks through the door grinning.

“Good morning!” he says with a kiss to your forehead. He sits down beside you, leaning forward to check out your daughter. “Hello, beautiful,” he says quietly. You grin.

“Funny you should say that. We need to pick out a name. And I think I just found the perfect one!” He turns to look at you waiting eagerly to hear it. “Keyara,” you say. He looks at you puzzled.

“It’s pretty. Did you find that in your book?” he asks. You nod. He sits back to lean against your bed. “What’s it mean?” You tell him and his face lights up.

“Beautiful River,” he repeats. “And it reflects her being born here.” You nod. He reaches over to, run his fingers over your daughters little bare arm. “Keyara?” he asks. She snuffles, batting at his fingers. You both laugh.

“I’ll take that as agreement,” you say. You flip through the book again. “Now we need a middle name,” you say. Mike looks up from tickling the Keyara’s foot.

“I had a thought last night,” he says. You make a face and he laughs. “I know. They come to be so seldomly… Anyway!” he laughs. “Ryan. I just keep thinking about Ryan. About how involved in this whole pregnancy he’s been. He was with you when you found out. He was with you during the car accident that could have ended so badly. And he was here when she was born, helping you get through it before I could get here. I was thinking about Ryanne maybe..” he trails off waiting for a response.

“Keyara Ryanne Phelps?” you say with a smile. He nods. You nod too, and he swoops in to kiss you.

“Keyara Ryanne Phelps. She’s perfect. Just like you,” he says pressing his forehead to yours. You shake your head, pulling back.

“I’m not perfect Mike. No one is!” he shrugs his shoulders.

“You are to me,” he says.

“And me!” Ryan pipes up from the doorway. He’s caring a bouquet of flowers and a pink “It’s a girl!” balloon on a string. You laugh, Mike helping you sit up once more in the bed.

“Did you get me flowers?” you ask. He looks around wildly for a minute.

“Of course I did!” he says with a big cheesy grin. You look at him in amusement, staring until he scrunches up his face, his shoulders dropping. “Ok no I didn’t,” he admits. “They have, like. a whole room of deliveries that have been sent here for you. Tons of flowers, and balloons, and gifts. I just grabbed up some daisies and a cute balloon to brighten up the room a little.” He sets the vase down on the window sill, and ties the balloon to a chair back in the corner. You blink in confusion. Michael shrugs.

“Believe it or not, Cathy but you’re kind of big news at the moment,” Mike says, taking your hand. Ryan laughs. He comes over to look in on the baby.

“You really are! ‘Michael Phelps' wife delivers Olympic Baby!’” he says in his best newscasters voice. You shrink down in the bed, shaking your head, and giggling.

“No way!” you say.

“It’s true. My mom called this morning. She went out and bought up one of each of the papers at the store. It’s all over the press here and back home. She says she’s saving them to show her granddaughter someday.” The Librarian in you delights in the news, and your mind starts turning.

“We should get the South African ones, too! Oh that’s so funny!” you say. Ryan sits down on the end of the bed, one of his hands resting on your foot.

“How are you feeling, today?” he asks. You shrug.

“Sore as hell, and fat. But better than this time yesterday!” you tease. They both laugh. “I feel pretty good really. It was scary when the labor started. I didn’t know if something was wrong, and it was so early. But the doctors says she’s big and healthy. And I’m just so happy she’s here,” you look at your daughter. Ryan pats your foot.

“Any progress on the name front? I think Tim was up late last night, trying to think up options,” he asks. You and Michael share a look.

“Actually yes, we think we’ve found the right name. We’d love to hear what you think,” you say. Ryan perks up.

“Ohhh tell me!” he says in excitement.

“Keyara,” Michael says, “for her first name. It means Beautiful River in Afrikaan. We thought it was very fitting.” Ryan’s smile gets bigger.

“Ohh that’s a pretty name. And it’s different. I bet there won’t be a million Keyara’s at her school when she gets older,” he says. You laugh, nodding in agreement. “What about a middle name?” Ryan asks. He reaches out to rest a hand on the side of the incubator, ducking his head to get a better look at her. Keyara’s sleeping.

“Ryanne,” you say. Ryan picks his head up to look at you, blinking in confusion. “Keyara Ryanne Phelps,” you say. “That’s her name. Keyara because of where she was born, and Ryanne because of how. Because of you.” His jaw drops.

“You can’t name your daughter after me!” he protests quietly.

“Why not?” Michaels asks leaning forward with a smile. “We want you to be one of her godfathers too,” Michael adds. You nudge him with your elbow, and he leans back, resting beside you once more. There is such a thing as too much information at one time.

“Her godfather?” Ryan asks shocked.

“Yes. We want you to be one of her godfathers. She wouldn’t be your sole responsibility. You’d share that with Hilary and with Whitney and Bob. We want the four of you to do this for us,” he shakes his head at your words, looking shocked.

“Bob and Whitney I understand, they have kids of their own, and Hilary is obvious she’s Mike’s sister too. But me?” he questions.

“Why not you? Ryan you’re one of my best friends in the world. And you know what you are to Michael. Why wouldn’t we trust you to be there for our child? You love her. We know you do. And you’re a good person. I know you’d never let anything happen to her. That’s what a Godparent does!” you explain. He sighs.

“I’d be honored to be her godfather, but you can’t name her after me,” he says shaking his head and crossing his arms. Michael laughs.

“Yes we can. Ryan you’ve been involved in every aspect of this babies life. From the minute we knew she was on the way. All the way up through the moment she was born. You protected Cathy and Keyara during that car accident. You’ve been there through every craving, and back ache, and shopping trip. You were here when she came into this world. You’re a part of our lives, and a part of hers. So we want to name her after you. Keyara Ryanne Phelps. It’s decided.” You nod in agreement with your husband. The baby makes a fussing sound, waking up with a small cry. You grin.

“And now you get to hold your goddaughter!” you proclaim. Michael stands up out of his spot, carefully lifting the side of the incubator up and handing your baby girl over to Ryan. He’s held his nieces and nephews before. He’s an old pro at infants, but he still looks scared to death.

“She’s so small,” he breathes. You grin.

“She is a bit smaller than average,” you say. He rubs a finger down the side of her little head, smiling at her with delight when she looks up at him Michael’s eyes.

“She looks like you,” he says. You look up, expecting him to be directing his words at Michael. But instead he’s looking at you. You blink in surprise.

“She has Michael’s eyes,” you say. He nods.

“But she has your lips and chin, and ears,” he says. You look back at your daughter, studying her face. There is a bit of you there, you realize. You grin. “She’s beautiful!” he adds and you blush. There’s a knock on the door then, Tim and Nancy, and Bob Bowman stepping into the room. A bouquet of flowers and some pink balloons in hand. Tim practically bounces in place in excitement. Ryan smiles, standing up carefully, and hands the baby over to you.

“Come on in. Come meet the newest Phelps!” Michael says. Nancy grins at you coming over to give you a gentle hug.

“How are you feeling?” she asks. You repeat your earlier reassurances and she smiles, looking down at the baby in your arms.

“Oh she’s darling!” Nancy says. You thank her, watching her back away so Tim can step up closer. He studies the baby for a few seconds.

“She’s cute!” he proclaims making you all laugh.. “She has really sucky timing though!” he pouts then. You smile.

“Let’s see it!” you order. “I know you still have it. I want to see the goods!” His face lights up in delight, and he reaches into his pocket to pull out a hinged box. Opening it up he shows it to you. Holding the baby in one arm you take it from him. “It’s beautiful!” you say and it is. The medal’s design is angular, instead of round, with the Olympic Rings standing out shiny and beautiful against a patterned surface. “Congratulations, Tim! I’m so sorry I missed it,” you say. He shrugs his shoulders.

“You had a good reason,” he says. “Hey, you think she’ll swim some day?” he asks. You look down at your daughter.

“Who knows? Maybe if she wants too,” Michael says.

“She have a name?” Tim asks, reaching out to touch her little chubby hand. You nod.

“Keyara Ryanne Phelps,” Michael says. Ryan starts to protest again and you kick him.

“That’s her name. Stop arguing, Ryan!” you hiss. He pouts at you, but Nancy and Bob both laugh. Tim takes his medal back, offering it up to Mike as if looking for approval. Michael grins at the sight of it.

“Good job, Tim,” he says nodding. “Next time it better be gold though!” he adds. Tim laughs taking it back and stepping over to show it to Ryan. Then Bob is there, looking down at the baby like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Hey,” he says quietly. You smile at him.

“Would you like to hold her?” you ask. Bob looks shocked at the offer but nods. He sits down in the chair beside the bed, and Michael comes over to move her into his arms. Bob bounces her a little, looking like a proud poppa.

“She’s so light,” he says.

“She won’t stay that way for long. You better enjoy it while you can, Grandpa,” you say. He looks up at you in complete confusion and shock. You grin at him, and at Michael who looks equally surprised. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to have my little girl grow up without being able to call someone Grandpa. Not when Bob will obviously love her like one!” you snap and aside from Bob’s happy but slightly horrified expression, no one begs to differ.

“So Keyara?” Tim asks, cocking his head to the side. “That’s what you’re gonna call her?” he asks.

“What? You don’t like it?” Michael asks. Tim shrugs.

“It’s ok. I just like Ryanne better.” You frown at him.

“Ryanne Keyara Phelps, doesn’t have the same ring to it,” you say.

“There’s no rule that you have to call her by her first name. Name her Keyara Ryanne Phelps, and call her whatever feels natural,” Nancy offers. You look at Michael and shrug, Ryanne did have a nice ring to it. Ryan sighs, giving up his fight to try and get her name changed. Later that day when the birth certificate is signed, Keyara Ryanne Phelps becomes her official and legal name. Speculation abounds.


	3. Third Time

Third Time’s the Charm

Ryanne is beautiful and wonderful and amazing. She’s the best thing to ever happen to all three of you. And between the three of you she is spoiled rotten. You wait until she’s two weeks old to fly back to the states, having to get her a temporary passport to get her into the country. Upon reaching the house you are immediately descended upon by the extended Phelps clan. Debbie is thrilled by the new grandbaby, and offers to baby-sit anytime. But to be honest you can’t imagine anyone taking care of her but the three of you, not yet at least.

High-off of a great showing at the Olympic games for Tim and being a first-time father, Michael walks around with a huge smile on his face nearly every minute of every day. He learns how to change a diaper quickly, and doesn’t complain when it’s time to do it. Ryan, surprisingly doesn’t complain either, and soon they’re like well synchronized diapering machines, teaming up to get it done in the most efficient way possible. Ryanne lays on the changing table, grinning up at them with her big brown eyes, Michael’s eyes, and drooling on herself, a smile lighting up her face as they change her. For a preemie she’s growing well, but it’s a solid month before she sleeps through the night. You’ve chosen to breastfeed, and so it’s you who gets up every night to feed her. Though usually one of the guys gets up with you, sits with you while you feed and rock and burp her.

She’s the light of your life. And you know that both Ryan and Michael would say the exact same thing.

For the first three weeks you don’t even think about sex. You’re sore and exhausted, and the farthest thing from feeling remotely sexy. You’re lucky if you get to bathe every day, and you can’t keep track of the number of times you go to bed with spit-up on your t-shirt, or baby slobber in your hair. But by the beginning of the second month, when she starts sleeping through the night, boy do you start to miss it. You know Ryan and Michael aren’t abstaining, but they seem to be doing it while you’re preoccupied. You only catch them a few times, and they always looks so guilty, as if they’re cheating or something that you stop going to investigate when they disappear off someplace together for a half an hour. You grin a little when they come back together, hair mussed, and faces flushed. You point out an unzipped zipper or backwards t-shirt on occasion but the humor in your face lets them know you aren’t mad.

You have it relatively easy. You have two people helping take care of Ryanne, not just the usual one, and it’s the off season so neither of them are working too terribly much. You’ve taken the year off, not needing to work to support the family has its advantages. But by that 5th week you’re going a bit crazy. You’re losing the baby weight, and feeling more like yourself. Without work, and with Ryanne sleeping through the night you start to feel more alive again. That leads to certain urges. But your doctor had said six weeks without any intercourse, and it’s hard to stick to that order. One night you wait till Ryanne is distracted. She’s lying on her baby blanket in the middle of the floor napping. Ryan passed out beside her on the rug, and Barbie laying nearby playing guard dog.

To say Michael is surprised when you climb into his lap is to put it mildly. You straddle his hips, pressing close, and lock your mouth to his. He feels wonderful against you, and you gasp when his mouth moves down your neck. His hands clutch you closer, and you grind your hips down into his, feeling his growing erection. He wants you and you love that he’s so quick to show it. Old insecurities raring their ugly little head get smacked down with one nudge of his dick against your thigh. You feel yourself getting wet, and warmth is spreading through your system. You want him so much. You want his dick so much, but you can’t. You whine a little pulling slowly away and flopping down beside him on the couch. He groans rubbing his hands across his face in agitation and then reaching down to readjust himself. You pant staring up at the ceiling. Groaning you pull yourself up off the couch. You walk over to Ryan, and nudge him with your foot. He blinks awake and looks up at you in confusion. He starts to grin at the look on your face, at your t-shirt half untucked, your face flushed and just a little sweaty.

“Someone’s been a bad girl!” he teases. You bend down, picking up your daughter, who snuffles and snuggles closer into your body. You roll your eyes.

“Go take care of that for me will ya?” you ask, nodding toward Michael. Ryan’s on his knees headed that way a second later. You shake your head and head for the stairs to put your child to bed, Barbie trotting after you. Just as you reach the bedroom and lay her in her bassinet, a relieved groan echoes up the stairs. You smile a little, and go to take a cold shower.

 

That night you fall asleep with Mike pressed to your back, and Ryan tucked in against your front, his big hand wrapped around your side. Ryan had fallen asleep first, Michael second. You lay awake counting his eyes-lashes, and feeling his breath on your face. He’s so beautiful, and you think for a moment that you’ve fallen in love with him. You reach out and brush one wayward curl off his cheek, tucking it behind his ear. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat, and pull your hand quickly away. You tug Michael closer against your back, pulling his arm further around your waist. He sighs in your ear, and you startle, sure that he’d been asleep before.

“It’s ok,” Michael whispers. You tense against him, unsure what to say. “Cathy,” he presses a kiss to your ear. You don’t know why but you feel tears come to your eyes. “Shh,” he whispers, rolling away from you and tugging you over onto your back. You look up at him, tears leaking slowly from your eyes. He wipes them away, laying against your side, and speaking softly in your ear. “You’re in love with him,” he says. You shake your head, but he shushes you. “It’s ok. Stop freaking out. It’s been happening for months.” You look at him in confusion. “What was it you said to me almost a year ago? ‘All that blonde hair, and hazel-blue eyes, and tan skin. You’ve seen him in the water. He’s poetry in motion. A lot of what you find physically attractive about me, is mirrored in him too.’” He grins, and you blush, putting a hand to your face in embarrassment. He laughs a little leaning down he presses a kiss to your mouth, kissing you chastely and letting you go a moment later. “I think we make him happy. All of us. You, me, Ryanne. We’re what he needs right now. I’m not sure how long that will last, but…” he pauses and he suddenly looks sad. “I’m not going to argue with it. I’m going to enjoy having him here, in our lives every day for as long as we get to keep him.” You sigh, sliding your arm around him. You lean forward kissing his jaw.

“He’s not a dog we can just adopt…” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“I know. He’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions. But if this works, what we have, the family we’ve built… Why deny your feelings for him? Why not complete the circle?” he asks. You sigh, closing your eyes. Your chest feels tight; your breathing constricted. You turn your head and look at Ryan, his face is relaxed in sleep, his full lips parted and his long eyelashes resting on his cheekbones. You ache for him, and it’s not just your hormones talking. You love him. There is no use denying it. You love his smile and his body, but the way his brain works. His sense of humor, and his kind nature. You love how he makes Michael light up, and rocks Ryanne to sleep, whispering completely inappropriate song lyrics to her, and promising way more bling than any baby could ever need. You like the way he hugs you, like he can’t get enough, and looks at you, like you’re amazing. You like shopping with him, watching TV with him, picking out books for him to read and have him not only read them but enjoy reading them.

“Oh shit…” you whisper. Michael chuckles in response kissing your cheek again.

“Just think about it, would you. That big brain of yours can solve any problem. Put it to work on this one!” he whispers. He snuggles back into his pillow and is soon snoring softly into your shoulder. You stay awake a long time.

 

You sleep in the next morning, and wake up to the smell of cooking bacon, one of the few things Michael can make without burning. You stretch your arms up above your head, glad for the extra sleep, and grateful for whoever it was that had invented the breast pump. You sit up in bed, and smile, running your hands through your hair. The door eases open and Ryan peeks his head inside. He has Ryanne in his arms. He laughs coming inside. You stretch your arms out for the baby.

“Hey, Mama,” he says handing her over. Ryanne wiggles in your arms, making little baby noises of contentment. You grin down at her, rubbing your nose against hers. She smiles up at you, shaking her arms, little hands curled up in fists. You giggle.

“Hey, Ryan!” you say smiling up at him. He sinks down on the end of the bed, and lies back, propping himself up on one arm. “She eat?” you ask, turning back to your daughter. You rub a finger over the down growing on top of her head. The soft hair just starting to grow in is dark, which is to be expected, and still very short, but you think there might be a curl to it, which makes you smile. She yawns up at you, her mouth moving in a sucking motion, her fist going to her mouth.

“A few hours ago. Drank a whole bottle practically without stopping. Thought you might want to provide round two. Mike’s making bacon. BLTs for lunch!” he licks his lips and you roll your eyes. Ryanne whines a little in your lap and you shake your head.

“Mama knows!” you coo, shushing her. She smacks her lips and you laugh again. Pulling up your t-shirt you strip it off completely, and gather Ryanne close, lifting her out of your lap. Cradling her head in your arms, you bring her in closer. She’s an old pro at nursing now, and latches on immediately, sighing a little and beginning to eat. You use your right hand to pull a pillow over and balance it in your lap, letting some of her growing weight sit on the pillow supporting your arm. You stare down at her, listening to the little suckling sounds she makes. She’s so greedy, and you think you might have to up her to a bottle and a half at each feeding soon.

It isn’t strange having Ryan watch you feed her. After all he saw you give birth to her. This is mild in comparison. But it’s strangely intimate having him just lay there and watch, without carrying on a conversation. And he is watching, with rapt attention. Ryanne’s jaw works up and down, sucking in long hungry pulls.

“It’s so natural,” he says after a few minutes. Ryanne finishes, pulling away from your nipple and making a face. You laugh pulling her up and bringing her to your shoulder, your dirty tee flung over it for protection. You rub her back, patting a little and she burps softly. You pull her back to kiss her sweet little cheek. Turning her, you offer the other breast, and again she latches on.

“You are hungry today aren’t you! Greedy girl,” you tease. She blinks up to you, her right fist curling up and resting next to her face on your breast. You look at Ryan. “Of course, it’s natural. It’s the most natural thing in the world!” you say, smiling at him. He grins.

“Doesn’t make it any less great!” he says smiling and showing even white teeth. He groans sitting up in the bed. He stands up yawning. Bending over, he plants a kiss on your cheek, and rubs a hand down the back of the baby’s head. You ignore the way your heart skips a beat at the casual affection. “I should probably go supervise Mike in the kitchen. We don’t want any knife accidents do we?” he says heading for the door. You almost call out to him, but you stop yourself, and a moment later he’s gone. You look back down at Ryanne who is sucking lazily now, almost asleep and still attached. Her belly warm and full. You sigh, pulling her off and up; rubbing her back. She snuffles into your neck, and falls asleep, one hand tangled in your hair.

“What is Mommy going to do?” you ask her. But at just 5 weeks old and sound asleep in your arms she can’t answer you.

 

It’s while the three of you are eating your Michael-made BLTs, that you make the decision. Well sort of. Ryan’s grinning at Mike and picking mayo and bits of bacon out of his hair, while Michael laughs, and cleans up the lettuce that had been launched across the table. You sit picking bits of tomato out of your cleavage and shaking your head. It’s amazing to you that three thirty-something adults can turn a simple family lunch into a food fight, yet somehow it happens, and not as rarely as you’d probably like.

You stack the plates, head for the kitchen, stopping to check on Ryanne, who sated and full, is still sleeping in her downstairs crib in the corner. You return to the dining room and aren’t the least bit surprised to find Ryan and Mike practically making out. They’re about two steps away from doing it on the dining room table again. And while the image doesn’t horrify you like it had back in March, it’s still not something you necessarily want to see just then. Maybe it’s the stress of last night, or the gritty feel of bits of greasy bacon in your bra, but you find yourself snapping at them without knowing quite why.

“Guys! Seriously? Right now? Don’t you ever take a rest?!” they freeze, pulling apart. As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to take them back. Horrified at your own reaction, you clamp a hand over your mouth. Ryanne wakes up at the agitation in your voice and starts to cry. You feel tears springing to your eyes again, and sprint from the room in misery. You get halfway down the back hallway and stop, sobbing quietly. You hear Mike’s voice talking to the baby, trying to soothe her, and a moment later footsteps coming up behind you. You wipe frantically at your cheeks trying to compose yourself.

“Cathy?” it’s Ryan and you feel some unknown thing curl tighter up inside of you. “I’m sorry. I know we’ve been kind of,” you cut him off.

“No. You have nothing to be sorry for! You’ve both been great. I just…” you shake your head, unable to turn to look at him. He steps up behind you, his hand resting on your shoulder. You half want to shrug him off and push him away, half want to turn into him and let him hug you tight. Instead you stand tense, leaning against the wall and avoiding his eyes.

“Cathy if you need me to back off, or to go, to give you guys some time alone with Ry, as just a family, just tell me and I’ll be on the first plane out!” he says it so sincerely, like he really would understand. It makes the hard tight feeling in your chest break lose. You spin around, pushing him back away from you and into the far wall. You press him up against it, knowing you only got away with it because you’d taken him completely by surprise. You lean up, pressing your mouth to his, one hand fisting the front of his t-shirt, the other going up to the back of his neck, tugging him down and in for easier access. It only takes him a moment to react. Instead of pushing you away he clutches you closer, his hands going to your hips, pulling your pelvis into his own. You gasp, and he takes control of the kiss, plundering your mouth with his own. His hands slide down your thighs, gripping them and lifting you off of the ground. Your legs wind around his waist, your hand tugging at his hair, and the other sliding around to grip his back.

He presses you to the opposite wall, and you buck against him. He loosens his hold a little, and you drop a few inches. He pushes his hips back up against yours and you howl with want. He’s hard. He’s hard and hot, and pressed right against you. Only your pajama bottoms, and a pair of his basketball shorts separating him from you. You pant, against his mouth, leaning closer to bite at his bottom lip. He whines against your mouth, one hand sliding up the inside of your shorts leg to press against your sex. You make a needy desperate sound, and his fingers sink inside of you. Your head flings back to press against the wall and he rotates his hand, pressing deeper, his thumb finding and circling your clit. You spasm against him grunting at the pleasure spreading quickly through your system. Your legs tighten around him, pulling his hand in deeper and his lips find that spot on your neck. The spot Michael always goes for when he wants you to come right fucking then. It does the trick, and you contract around his fingers, moaning into his shoulder, and biting down on the muscle there. He grunts, pressing himself against you again, his fingers still working.

The pleasure rolls through you in long beautiful waves that have you rocking in his arms and whimpering his name over and over again. He pulls his hand away after a long moment, just as the waves are starting to ebb. Bringing his hand up to examine it, you watch him take the tips into his mouth. You moan, pulling the hand away and diving for his lips again. He plants his hand against the wall behind you, the other still holding you up in the air, pressed you all along his body. He thrusts against you, and you gasp, tightening your legs around his hips. Your mouth pulls away from his to suck greedily for air. He whispers your name, the word breaking when he moans. His breathing picks up and you kiss his mouth again, pulling him into you. Your lips slide up following one cheekbone up and over. You want him inside of you desperately. His shoulders tense and you reach up to press a kiss to his lips. It’s a loving kiss, gentle, easy. He chokes against you coming with a desperate cry. You sigh, letting him breathe against you, his head falling down to rest on your shoulder. He loosens his grip on your ass and your legs fall down to support your weight again. You think for a second that your knees will give out but he holds onto you until he’s sure you’re ok to stand. You’re both panting for air and you smile feeling a little dazed. You feel on edge, like the right stimulation would make you orgasm all over again. It’s a pleasant feeling, an exciting feeling. You look up at him afraid you might find regret shining back at you in his eyes. But he’s grinning.

“Well, that was new,” he teases. You smack him in the shoulder. He laughs then and you blush again, turning away. He tugs you close again pulling you into a full body hug. You lean against him, letting him hug you tight.

“Thank you. I really, really, needed that, Ryan,” you whisper into his shirt.

“My pleasure. I am available any time!” he grins. You laugh into his shoulder, feeling more relaxed than you have in weeks. The sound of a clearing throat has you peeking around Ryan’s shoulder. Mike stands at the end of the hallway. He’s got Ryanne asleep in his arms and a big grin on his face.

“That…” he says emphatically, “was hot!” Ryan laughs, and you groan, ducking back behind him in embarrassment. Mike chuckles, making his way down the hallway. He tugs you away from Ryan by the arm, pulling your unresisting body closer to his own. Your legs still feel shaky. He adjusts the baby and pulls you closer. Tipping your face up to his, he leans down taking your mouth, and you groan, melting into his side. Pulling back, he wipes a hand down the side of your face, brushing hair off your cheekbone. He’s grinning as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “You taste like him!” he says brightly, kissing your ear. You feel your whole body flush, and your knees give out. It’s Ryan who catches you, lifting you up and carrying you toward the living room, Mike following behind laughing quietly so as to not wake the baby. You’re embarrassed and suddenly you desperately need a nap.

Ryan lays you down on the couch, and starts to step away, but you tug him back by the hand. He sits down beside you and you sit up a little, pulling him closer. You kiss him again, only this time it’s soft, and gentle, and almost innocent. When you stop the kiss you lean your forehead against his. You close your eyes and just breathe.

“You okay?” Ryan asks. You nod smiling.

“I just…” you pause, and his forehead creases as he watches you search for words. “I think I’m falling a little bit in love with you. And it’s ok if you don’t feel that way about me. I know how much you love Michael. I just wanted you to know that I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to leave so Mike and I can be alone with Ryanne. That’s not what I want. I don’t want you thinking that if you left there wouldn’t be this giant Lochte sized hole in our lives where you belonged and,” your rambling is cut off when he kisses you again. This one isn’t innocent. It’s intense and deep and passionate. One of his hands sinks into your hair and the other slides down around your back, pulling your body closer to his. It’s when you’re contemplating climbing up into his lap and rubbing yourself against him like a big cat, that Mike starts laughing again. You break away turning to glare at your husband.

“You guys are so cute!” he says teasingly. Ryan’s up off the couch a second later, tackling Michael to the ground. The baby thankfully was sitting in her bouncy chair near the fireplace, where Mike had put her. She’s awake again, but not crying. She sits sucking on her own fingers and watching the goings on in apparent amusement. She laughed a little when Michael hit the floor with Ryan on top of him, both of them laughing loudly as they tussled back and forth. You roll your eyes laying back to rest your head on a throw pillow.

“You think you’d be more supportive, Mikey! Your boyfriend and your wife falling in lurve with each other!” Ryan teases, holding Michael’s hands to the carpet. Mike grins up at him, face flushed, and goes still.

“You might want to tell her that,” Mike suggests. Ryan freezes turning to look at you. You’ve curled up on your side, on the couch. You lie there watching their antics and laughing. Your eyes meet his and it’s another one of those moments where neither of you need to say anything. You just both get it.

“I think she knows. But just to make sure…” he grins at Mike and climbs up off of the floor. He comes to sit on the floor by the couch. You smile at him and he leans over you, sweeping hair back off your neck. His face is happy but serious. “Cathy..” he says softly. You grin at him, happiness bursting in your chest. “I’m not falling in love with you,” he says softly. He grins widely, at the shocked sound Mike lets out, but you know what’s probably coming and grin. “I’ve already fallen in love with you!” he says, leaning forward to take your mouth with his. You let out a breathy sort of moan, and tug him closer. Mike bursts out laughing.

“Hey! Knock it off. She’s got a moratorium on the good stuff for 6 more days!” Mike announces, tugging Ryan away from you. You whine a little in protest, and Ryan falls backward laughing.

“Just because she can’t have sex sex, doesn’t mean we can’t get her off a couple more times!” Ryan argues. That stops you and Michael cold. “Didn’t think of that did ya!?” Ryan says, struggling out of Mike’s slack grip and diving for you again. This time, Michael joins him.

That was just the beginning. The end of the week can’t get there soon enough for any of you.

 

You’re not sure what you’re expecting when you get home that day. You are probably expecting to come in, late from taking Ryanne to her six week check-up, and find Ryan and Mike stretched out across the living room floor eating pizza and playing video games. Or alternatively, waiting for you to make dinner. You imagine that after you’ve all eaten, and cleaned the dishes, and put Ryanne down for the night, that you’ll all climb into bed together. That you’ll finally get what you’ve been wanting for weeks. So when you pull up to the house, and find Debbie’s car parked behind Michael’s you’re confused and slightly irritated. You love Debbie. She’s a wonderful woman, a great mother, and a fantastic grandmother. But you don’ t necessarily feel up to three hours of chit chat and concerned questions. Inquiries about your milk production, and talk of diapers and the correct way to burp your daughter. Debbie takes her role of grandma and as a teacher very literally sometimes.

You take a deep steadying breath, and leave the car, closing the door quietly behind you. Ryanne is asleep in her carrier. You release it from the seat base and head for the door toting one baby, one diaper bag, and the bag Ryan has taken to calling your Mommy Purse. It’s big and heavy and filled with all the things you suddenly need, now that you have a baby with you almost 24/7. When you stick your key in the lock, the door flies open and Debbie’s there. She pulls you into an enthusiastic hug and your eyes go wide. Mike’s in the doorway to the foyer, barefoot and grinning at you, arms crossed over his own chest. You roll your eyes and pull back from Debbie.

“Hey, Mom!” you say in greeting, squeezing past her to shut the door. She grins at you.

“You look wonderful, Cathy!” she says, taking the bag off your arm, and focusing her eyes on Ryanne’s face. “Oh she’s getting so big!” she coos. “I’m so glad you finally decided to let me take her for the night. Between Ryan and little Ryanne being in the house, you and Michael don’t get anywhere near enough time alone together. And Ryanne so needs to get to know her Grandma!” Debbie says exuberantly, pulling the carrier off your arm and hefting it up to get a closer look at Ryanne’s face. “She looks so much like her Daddy!” Debbie says. It takes a moment for you to process all of Debbie’s sentences. Then it hits you all of the sudden and you look at Michael. He sees the look on your face and reacts accordingly.

“Ma!” he says stepping forward. He takes the carrier out of Debbie’s arms setting it down on the nearby coffee table. He leans down taking a stirring Ryanne out of the car seat and up into his arms. Ryanne whines, waking up at the disturbance. She blinks up at him and smiles, giggling at seeing her Daddy’s face. “There’s my little Princess!” he says bending over to kiss her cheeks. She giggles again, shaking both her hands at him. He looks up at you and you feel your face flush at the smile he gives you. “I know you weren’t expecting Mom to be here, but I wanted to spend the evening with you. I thought maybe Mom could take the baby tonight, so we could be alone,” he explains, bouncing Ryanne in his arms. You sigh. It was sweet of him to arrange this but you just don’t know. Seeing your indecision he walks to Debbie. “Take her for a minute?” he asks. Debbie nods.

“Always!” she says accepting the baby into her arms.

Mike takes your hand pulling you around the corner and into the den. He shuts the door behind you, his face turning serious as he backs you up against the solid wood support of it. Your back connects at the same moment his mouth takes yours. He plunders your mouth, his hands raking down your sides and around behind you to grip your ass. You gasp into his mouth as he pulls you up and in, your toes stretching to stay on the floor. His tongue steals your breath, and you moan a little, lifting one leg to wrap around his waist. He grins into your lips, pulling his mouth slowly away from yours. You pant against his throat, hands gripping the back of his head, threading through his dark hair.

“It’s been six weeks! I want you. Ryan wants you. I know you don’t want some stranger looking after Ry, but this is my mother. She’s not going to let anything happen to her. And if you let her go to my Mom’s for the night, we can have 24 hours with no diaper changes or burpings, or any reason at all to get out of that big bed waiting upstairs!” he whispers. You whine against his shoulder and nod.

“Ok!” you sigh. “Ok. Ok. Ok!” you whisper, nodding quickly. He laughs, rocking his hips into yours and making you cry out softly with want. He backs away and your leg drops down to touch the floor. He lets you go and you take a moment to slow your breathing. He pulls you back away from the door, leading you back to the foyer where Debbie is checking the contents of the diaper bag. She bounces as she sorts, juggling the baby expertly. She looks up at you as you come back, eyes widening with amusement and comprehension. You straighten your shoulders and clear your throat, refusing to be embarrassed.

“You’re sure you don’t mind taking her for the night, Mom?” you ask, reaching out for the baby. She hands her over, smiling widely.

“Of course I don’t mind! It’ll be good for the two of you to spend some time alone. I’ll only call if there’s an emergency, and I know all the contact numbers for her pediatrician. You guys will have a great time, and so will we!” she quips. You nod and smile down at Ryanne.

She is getting sleepy again. You kiss her little cheeks and her forehead, rubbing your fingers down the downy fuzz of her head. She gurgles with contentment in your arms. You kiss her again, closing your eyes and breathing in her little baby smell. You hug her to you, handing her over to Michael who is waiting beside you. You grin at Debbie heading to the diaper bag to help get it ready.

It takes 10 minutes for you to gather up Ryanne’s favorite blanket and toys, getting a second bag out of her closet to hold it all. You stuff in extra diapers, clothes, bibs and other essentials. Then go and fill a small cooler with bottles of breast milk from the fridge. It’s as your saying goodbye to Ryanne again that Ryan gets home. He grins at Debbie, greeting her enthusiastically, with a big hug. She seems confused at his presence but he quickly smoothes over her concern. He holds up the paper bag he’s brought with him, the smell of your favorite dishes from the local Italian restaurant filling the room.

“Brought dinner,” he says setting the bag down on living room coffee table and coming back. He kisses Debbie’s cheek. “You’re taking the munchkin for the night?” he asks. She nods.

“You need a place to stay?” she asks. “You’re always welcome.” He laughs shaking his head.

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though. I’m staying at an old friend’s house! We have a big weekend planned. UF game on TV tomorrow night, and a new club opening in the city,” he explains. She grins brightly.

“You have fun!” she says patting his back. Mike hands Ryanne over to Ryan who kisses her cheeks just like the two of you have, snuggling his nose under his chin, and handing her over to you. You smile at him, meeting his eyes and quickly looking away before your face can heat. You kiss Ryanne one more time, before buckling her into her carrier, and covering the whole thing with a baby blanket. Debbie takes it from you, pulling you into a one armed hug. You squeeze her tightly in response. “She’ll be fine,” Debbie whispers. You grin nodding.

“I trust you more than anyone else. We’ll call in the morning?” you ask. She nods, and you watch her slide out the front door, baby in tow. Michael heads out after her carrying the diaper bag, cooler, and overnight bag. You watch the door shut, feeling like half your life has just walked out the door.

Your apprehension is short lived, because Ryan has you in his arms a second later. He kisses you hungrily, backing you into the living room. He lifts you up with his big hands, dropping you to sit on the conveniently high back of the couch. You’re thankful for the dark curtains on the windows in this room, blocking curious eyes from seeing inside. You relax, letting him kiss you. His hands slide up under the back of your sweater, fingers warm on your skin. You moan, spreading your legs, and pulling him closer. He’s hard against you, and pulls your hips to the very edge of the couch back, to press tighter against you. You moan, and claw at his shoulders through his sweater. The door slams in the foyer, the lock engaging loud and echoing down the short hallway and around the corner. Ryan breaks the kiss and you gasp as he kisses down your throat. He nips at your ear, and you groan loudly. Michael’s there a second later, his arms going around Ryan’s waist, to grip your hips. You sigh, and open your eyes to look at him over Ryan’s shoulder. He grins at you.

“While I know you’ve both been waiting for this for a long time, and I am totally looking forward to sitting back and watching for a change, I really think we shouldn’t let this dinner go to waste. You’re both gonna need your strength,” he says teasingly. Ryan pulls his mouth away from yours and scrapes his teeth down your neck. When he pulls his lips away completely, you flop back to lay along the back of the couch, balanced precariously on the cushions. You groan, tugging your shirt and sweater back down your abdomen. Ryan lets you go, holding his hands in the air to keep them from delving back under your clothes. He steps back and you immediately ache for him again. He slides away leaning his back against the living room wall, and letting Michael pull you into a seated position. “Come on, Cathy. We have a surprise for you!” He takes your hand, and you hop down off the back of the couch following him down the hallway to the dining room. He flicks on the light, and you gasp.

The dining room table is set with three full place settings, linen napkins, and a bottle of wine. Ryan grins, going over to light the candles. Mike pulls you to a chair, and pulls it back for you helping you sit down, and pushing your chair in for you. You grin up at him, blushing. He pecks you on the cheek before disappearing with Ryan out of the room. A second later music starts to play and you recognize one of the slower R&B songs that gets you in the mood for romance. The two are back a moment later carrying lasagna, and crusty bread, spaghetti in an Alfredo sauce, and a small cheesecake.

Dinner lasts longer than you thought it would. The three of you eating and drinking the wine they’d chosen, listening to the music and talking. You tell them about Ryanne’s check-up at the doctor, and they talk about their day at the pool, and plans for the coming week. It’s only when the dinner plates have been cleared, the cheesecake put away to keep cold that you let your mind go there again. Ryan and Mike are laughing as they clear the table, cracking jokes, and touching each other more than they ever allow themselves too in public. You sink low in your chair and let yourselves just watch. Ryan catches sight of you, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and fixed on where Mike’s arm has slid around Ryan’s waist in casual affection. Ryan grins and nods in your direction. Michael’s eyes focus on you and he laughs.

“I think we’re ready for bed,” he suggests. You slide your eyes up to his and he smiles at you. Ryan blows out the candles on the table, and reaches for your hand.

You don’t know why you’re suddenly so nervous. You’re far, FAR from being a virgin. You’ve had everything but actual sex with Ryan, and done far more with your husband, while Ryan lies in the same bed beside you and Michael. But you are. You feel almost like it’s your first time ever, and your palms start to sweat, your eyes focusing on the floor as he leads you up the stairs, Mike turning out lights and locking doors, following right behind.

The bedroom is dark, but that doesn’t concern you, you know this room like the back of your hand. Ryan stops you in the hallways and Michael enters first, Ryan pulling you in after. You’re vaguely aware of your husband going around the room to light various candles. Ryan turns to you a few feet from the bed, pulling you close into his arms, and hugging you to him. You wind your arms around him, hugging him tight and taking deep breaths. He smells good. Like expensive cologne, and shampoo, and just a little bit like chlorine. You press a kiss to his jaw, delicate and almost chaste. He grins, cradling your head with one hand. He guides your mouth to his. Your head tilts back, resting in his palm as he takes your mouth, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders. You gasp breaking the kiss to pant against one high cheekbone. He fights for his own breath, his free hand sliding down to tug at the bottom of your sweater. Suddenly you’re desperately hot, sweltering really in all your clothes and you want them off. Your hands yank the sweater off, following it quickly with your t-shirt, and belt. Ryan slows your hands as they attack your zipper.

“Slow,” he whispers. “I want to enjoy every moment of this,” he says pressing a kiss to your cheek, and sliding the tip of his nose down the side of your face to kiss your neck. You gasp again feeling yourself growing wet in your panties. You nod, reaching for his sweater too, pulling it up and off his broad shoulders. His t-shirt comes off with it, and you’re left with the bare expanse of his upper body spread out before you. You press a kiss to the center of his chest, kissing over to your right, so that your lips rest over the steady thumping of his heart. You stay there a moment enjoying his skin pressing against yours, before leaning back and reaching for the fly of his dress pants.

He doesn’t stop you this time, one hand stroking through your long hair, the other going around your back to unclip the hooks of your bra. You get his pants down past his hips and they fall to sit on the floor. Your own jeans following suit. You stand on tip toe, pressing your mouth to his, letting your bra slide down your arms to land at your feet. You arms come up around his neck, holding him close, your breasts pressing to his chest just perfectly. The hand on your nearly bare hip flexes there, his finger tips pressing into the flesh of your ass. His fingers trace the edge of your underwear, pulling at the panties on one side to get them off. You let one hand go down to tug from the other side, shoving the restricting fabric away to join the rest of your clothes on the floor. Ryan grins down at you, and you pull back to meet his gaze. His eyes are so blue in the low light of the bedroom, and suddenly you wish there was more light, so that you could see better. You don’t care that he’d be able to see better too. He tugs you toward the bed, where the blankets have been pulled back to sit at the end of the bed.

You climb onto the mattress, Ryan crawling up beside you. He stays close, pressing along your entire body with his own. You’re suddenly nervous again. He kisses you, nudging your legs apart with his knee so that he has room to lie between them. He braces himself on the mattress, kissing down your neck and across your collarbone. You moan as he skips over that one spot that always makes you go off like a firecracker, and instead slides further down the bed to kiss across your breasts. You’ve gotten used to the feel of his mouth on you, of his fingers teasing your clit, and pressing up inside of you. You’ve spent the last 6 days learning his body and touching him everywhere you’ve always wanted too, but his mouth still amazes you, still makes your spine arch in appreciation. You gasp and groan, one hand sliding into his soft thick hair as he sucks at your right breast, cradling it in a calloused palm, and letting it go when you tug on his curls. He looks up at you, face flushed, but confused.

“What?” he asks. You make a face.

“Milk,” you whisper. He rolls his eyes.

“It’s just milk. It’s not, like, gonna hurt me. Why should that scare me off?” he asks, pressing his mouth to your breast again. Your whole body convulses against his. His mouth is big and hot, and wet against you, the suction he’s applying steady and strong. You’d fed Ryanne at the doctor’s office, but that was several hours earlier, and it doesn’t take long for the milk to come. He takes a long pull, and the sensation goes straight to your sex, in a way it never has at Ryanne’s mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he lets your nipple go, kissing between your breasts, and reaching down between your legs. You’re wet for him, and your hips keep shifting almost without your conscious control. He grins up at you, pushing back into a sitting position. He reaches for the box on top of the bedside table. Condoms you realize. You watch him take one, coming back to brace himself over you and looking determined. Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t want that. You don’t want that between him and you. You know it’s probably stupid and irresponsible and perhaps a bit idiotic. But you love Ryan, and Ryan loves you. Michael’s there, sitting in the arm chair beside the bed watching you both and enjoying the view. Your hand closes on his, taking the condom from between his fingers. He looks up at you startled. “Cathy?” he asks.

“I don’t want it,” you whisper, tossing the condom away. You wrap your leg up around his waist and tug at his shoulders, trying to get him closer. He looks confused.

“But you could… You just had a baby. You don’t want another one. Not mine at least,” he says, reaching for the box again. You yank him closer, and he loses his balance, pressing down against you in all the right places. You groan, holding him close, not letting him pull away.

“I love you. You’re part of this family. No I’m not saying I necessarily want another baby right away, but the chances of that are slim especially at this moment in time. I want to feel you, all of you, the real you. Nothing between us,” you whisper. He looks to the right, where Michael is sitting in the armchair in the corner. Michael gets up moving over to the bed. It dips as Michael sits down beside you, stretching his long body down the length of the bed. He runs a hand down your upper arm and then up Ryan’s.

“I don’t think either of us would mind a Ryan/Cathy baby joining the family. But you of course have a part in that decision too, Lochte,” he whispers. Ryan groans, and you feel him growing harder against your thigh. You laugh, pressing your hips up to his.

“You’re sure?” Ryan whispers, reaching down to still your hips. You lean forward to capture his mouth with yours. He sighs against your mouth and pulls back nodding. “Ok,” he says. You grin resting back against the pillows. Michael leans forward to press a kiss to Ryan’s cheek, leaning down to do the same to you. He pulls back to climb back off the bed, but you catch his hand in yours.

“Stay,” you whisper meeting his eyes. He nods, lying back down on the edge of the bed, close enough to touch and with a much better view of the action. You turn your attention back to Ryan, and lean up to kiss him again. He takes your mouth with extra enthusiasm leaving you breathless and wanting when he breaks the kiss. His hands lift your hips, shifting your position and you gasp loudly as he slides inside of you.

You groan, your hands gripping his back, your spine arching, and your legs crossing against the small of his back. He lets out a little half laugh, and holds his position. You squeeze your muscles around him, loving the feel of him inside of you for the first time. He’s not as long as Michael, but he’s wider, fuller. He stretches you in a different way, and you clench around him in slightly pained pleasure. His fingers move against your clit and you cry out, clutching at his back. He laughs, pulling his hand away. You whine a little but he shifts his angle and gives one long slow rocking thrust. He reaches deep inside of you. Anything he lacks in length (compared to Michael) is made up in other areas. His strength and girth, but also in his ability to hit just the right spot inside of you.

You gaze at him in wonder, unsure how he knows your body so well. You remember a week ago how his mouth had found that spot on your neck so quickly. You look up at him, watching the sweat gathering on his temples, his face flushing with exertion. He sits up more pulling you up into his lap. You’re sitting astride him now, your body weight pressing him deeper inside of you. You gasp, breath stuttering again in reaction.

“Ryan! How’d you know the angle? How’d you know where to touch me? How? How?” you whisper, pressing your face into his neck and gasping as you rotate your hips, meeting him perfectly as he thrusts up into you, the muscles in his thighs pressing him up like your body weighs nothing. He chuckles into your hair, one hand resting on your lower back, the other cradling the back of your head. His fingers thread through your hair, and he ducks down to press his mouth to yours. You let out a little choking sound as he thrusts just right inside of you.

“I’m highly observant, Cathy… you think I haven’t been taking notes for the last 10 months?” he asks. You let out a little whine, at his words. He holds you tighter to his chest, sliding deep inside of you. It’s too good. Too much and you’re going to come. You’re close and he knows it. He lays you back on the bed, releasing you to lie against the pillows. You stare up at him, legs pressed wide and up to give him room. He’s so beautiful leaning over you, it’s breathtaking. He brings his mouth to yours, kissing you lightly, slowing his pace, drawing it out for both of you. You groan, one hand going up to grip the headboard above you, the other scrambling across the bed to your left. Michael snatches it up and you’re suddenly acutely aware of the reality of your situation. Ryan is making love to you. Finally! After almost a year of wanting him, and craving him, of falling in love with him and flirting with him, he’s here. He’s inside of you and it’s him who’s making you feel this way. Ryan fucking Lochte. He presses deep adding a little hitch on the end that makes your eyes want to roll back in your head, and you make a sound you’re not sure you’ve ever made before. Michael’s hand grips yours tighter and you release the headboard to grip Ryan’s shoulder. It only takes one more rolling thrust and you’re coming.

It happens in waves, building quickly and crashing over you, ebbing and then crashing in again. Maybe it’s that it’s been over two months. Maybe it’s that it’s Ryan, which is new, and wanted, and loved. Or maybe he’s just that good. But the orgasm that takes over your system makes your toes curl, and your back arch, and you squeeze Mike’s hand so hard you discover later that your wedding rings leave a dent in two of his fingers.

You cry out, saying Ryan’s name over and over again, pleading with him to keep going, and he does as asked. He keeps pounding into you, hitting that spot just right over and over again until you’re coming a second time, and scratching your nails down his back in reaction. He groans your name at the added stimulation, and comes inside of you, rocking through the orgasm, and coming to rest on top of you loose-limbed and sated. He lays there, still pressed deep inside of you, but softening. He rests his head on your heaving chest, nestled between your breasts, and your hand comes up to card through his hair. You turn to look at Michael, tugging the other man closer into your side. He leans down pressing a kiss to Ryan’s forehead, making him smile, before pressing a similar kiss to your cheek. You’re sweaty, curls clinging to your neck and throat, face and body flushed and smile wide and undoubtedly goofy on your face. Michael laughs brushing back your hair and kissing down the slope of your nose to take your mouth with his.

He licks into you, tasting Ryan and sweat, and you. He grins, pulling back to curl up on the pillow beside you, one hand sliding under you, the other resting on Ryan’s back. He holds you close, smiling as he breathes in your ear.

“Let me know when you’re ready for round two, Cathy. I’m ready when you are!” he presses a kiss to your jaw. Mike’s words make you gasp, a ripple doing through your body at the thought, and you contract around Ryan. He grunts, letting out a laugh, and sitting up against you.

“Fuck, Mikey. I think she’s definitely ready, if that little squeeze means what I think it does.” Mike grins, turning your head to take your mouth again. Your hand slides up around his shoulders pulling him closer against you. You tug at his button up shirt, suddenly frantic for him. He pulls the shirt off over his head, taking his undershirt off with it. He captures your mouth again. Ryan shifts inside you, already hardening again and he rubs just right, making you moan into Michael’s mouth. You pant against Michael’s lips, eager for more like you haven’t been in weeks. Ryan rocks his hips thrusting a little and you undulate into the half stroke desperate to feel him again. Ryan shifts position, thrusting again and again. It’s a steady even pace this time. But he’s being mean. He’s changed the angle. It’s enough to make you moan, to get you fired up but not get you any closer to coming. You whine into Michael’s mouth, trying to shift your hips, but Ryan holds them fast to the bed, increasing his pace. You cry out and turn your attention to getting Michael free from his dress pants. He complies, stripping the material away and pressing close again. He’s impossibly hard, and he kisses you a little desperately. You grip the back of his head with one hand, tugging at his hair and moaning softly. You grip his erection with the other. The kiss breaks, with Michael moaning loudly at the feel of your hand on him. He kisses down your shoulder moving down to tease your breasts with his mouth.

Ryan grins down at you, hair hanging in his eyes, as he moves inside of you. You tighten your legs around him, letting go of Michael’s hair to touch the smooth flesh of Ryan’s lips. He takes your fingertips into his mouth, nipping at the pads and sucking a little. You gasp and his smile widens. He thrusts again and again, his breathing speeding up as his pleasure mounts. You let out a groan of frustration. It feels good. How could it not? But the angles all wrong and it’s only making your own body clench with need and desperation. You squeeze around him, and he cries out your name, his back bowing as he comes inside of you a second time. He pulls out of you tenderly, unwrapping your legs from around his waist. Your legs clamp together with need. Your hips shift with want, as Ryan collapses beside you on the other side. You whine, eyes screwing shut with desperation. You have one hand buried in your own hair, the other has abandoned Mike and is gripping the headboard above you. Your body twists with unfulfilled pleasure. Michael makes shushing sounds, using his big hands to pry your legs apart. He settles between them and your eyes fly open to meet his.

“Cathy?” he whispers, one hand supporting his weight near you shoulder, the other cradling your neck to bring your lips up to his. You kiss him deeply, your arms locking around him to keep him close to you. He smiles, kissing you back. He releases your neck to reach down and pull up your left thigh. You spread for him, eager and waiting. He presses forward and your eyes roll back in your head.

It’s like coming home. Ryan’s amazing, you love him, and he was wonderful, but this is Michael! Michael! Who has been your husband and lover for years. His cock sliding inside of you is as perfect as you can imagine it to be. It’s just what you’ve been wanting, craving for two months. It’s just as long as you want, just as wide and full inside of you as you’ve come to expect. It curves just the right way to make your thighs tingle, and he knows your body so well he hardly has to try. He pulls up on your left knee, tilting your pelvis up and he immediately hits that perfect button inside of you. You cry out his name, arms pulling his body to yours. He kisses across your face, pressing his mouth to any area of exposed skin on your face, neck and chest, everywhere he can reach. He stops briefly to listen to your heart beating wildly in your chest, before straightening up and letting himself go. Ryan’s thrusts had been slow and deep, taking their time and savoring every sensation of being inside of you. Michael’s are quicker, less tender but no less loving. He knows you and it shows. The hand on your thigh slides, up and under to support your lower back, and Michael continues to rock into you at a fast hard pace that has you rushing for the tipping point in what seems like only seconds.

You reach your peak, crying out loudly, screaming his name over and over again. Body clamping down and around Michael’s in every way it can. He cries out, groaning your name and coming inside of you. You gasp for air, feeling sore and sticky, and exhausted. Your legs drop down to the bed on either side of him, and you wince a little as he slides out of you slowly, leaving you feeling almost painfully empty. He stretches out along your side, putting his arm around you and hugging you close. You lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath, staring up at the ceiling, watching shadows dance there in the light of the candles. You let your head rest on Michael’s shoulder, glad for his warmth pressed all along your side.

You turn your head to look at Ryan, desperate to have him touching you again. He’s curled up on his side watching you, a big old grin lighting up his face, and skin still slightly flushed. His curly hair as sweaty and as rumpled as you are sure that yours is. You smile at him, reaching out a hand in his direction to tug him closer. You turn slightly onto your side, pressing your back into Michael’s warmth, his arm curling further around your middle. Ryan moves closer, sliding up against you, chest to chest, face to face. He touches your cheek with one hand, sliding it down your arm, across Michael’s forearm, and down to rest on your hip.

“Thank you,” you whisper grinning at him. He purses his lips.

“What are you thanking me for? We should be thanking you!” he replies. You roll your hips a little humming in appreciation.

“I think thank yous are due all around than!” you reply. You turn a little looking back over your shoulder at Michael. He’s drowsing a little, eyes half lidded, as he smiles down at you. “Thank you, Michael,” you say sincerely. He blinks a second, waking up fully, before grinning widely.

“Thank you, Cathy,” he whispers, leaning forward to claim your mouth with a kiss. You sigh, suckling at his mouth, letting his tongue in to press against your own. You moan shifting your legs together in want. He breaks the kiss, chuckling in wonder. “Again? Already?” he asks. You blush beet red in embarrassment ducking your head away, but Ryan’s right there when you turn your face, ready and willing to claim your mouth for himself. You gasp, opening your mouth to his eagerly. Michael laughs behind you, releasing your waist and guiding Ryan’s hand down off of your hip to the back of your thigh. Together they pull your leg up and back, hooking your calf over Michael’s knee, Ryan holds your leg there, allowing Michael’s hand room to roam.

His fingers trace down your stomach, circling your belly-button, and making you giggle around Ryan’s kiss. But he doesn’t stop. He goes further, reaching down to press between your folds. You’re still wet from before. Three of your own orgasms, plus the product of three of theirs combined, makes you slick and wet. He presses the heel of his palm to your pelvic bone, his middle finger finding your clit and slowly tracing once around the small nub. You gasp out loud, breaking the kiss, and rocking your hips up into Michael’s hand. He laughs into your ear, pressing his mouth to the side of your neck. “We’re quite capable of taking care of that for you, my love,” he whispers. Ryan nods in agreement, and unceremoniously starts sliding down the bed. You watch him go with wide eyes, seeing him licking his lips as he slides further and further down the bed. The hand he’s kept on your knee suddenly pushes it up further, stretching you open for him.

You start to tremble, still honestly surprised that it is Ryan doing this for you. But Michael seems unphased, watching his lover reach out to lick, and kiss, and suck at the sex of his wife. He seems to light up with glee at the notion, and stays unusually quiet as Ryan presses his mouth between your legs.

His mouth is hot and lush as he kisses down your center. He flicks his tongue around your clit, moving further down to lick inside of you. You cry out, going tense in Michael’s arms. Your thighs shake, muscles flexing as you’re held open and explored with tongue and lips and fingers. Ryan is magnificent at this, at taking you apart, and putting you back together again. One of your hands threads through Michael’s the other slides down to rest in Ryan’s hair. You rock your hips into his motions, pressing back into Michael and forward into Ryan’s mouth. The pleasure mounts and mounts again until you are practically howling with need. When you come again you’re almost delirious with it, clutching at Ryan and Michael, your eyes rolling back in your head with the release.

You must pass out because when you come too, the three of you are under the covers and the candles are all blown out. Ryan and Michael are talking quietly above you, and you’re curled up on Ryan’s chest, Michael still pressed all along your back. They’re whispering to each other, using their height advantage to share kisses over your head. You moan curling your left leg up over Ryan’s legs, and pressing closer, you arm sliding up around his waist.

“You guys are going to spoil me if you keep this up. Promise me it won’t always be like this. I don’t think I can handle this much sex on a regular basis. My brain will turn to mush,” you groan, eyes still closed. Ryan’s chest rumbles with his laughter and you can hear Mike laughing behind you.

“I think this is a special occasion, but at least now you know why Ryan makes me moan the way he does,” Mike says, kissing the side of your neck again. You moan. It’s a happy little sound, and blink your eyes open, turning your head up to look at Ryan. He grins down at you.

“I try my best,” he says kissing your forehead. You sigh smiling up at him.

“I’m going to be so sore tomorrow,” you whisper. Michael laughs behind you.

“Want us to kiss it better,” he teases. You groan, pulling your leg off of Ryan’s and squeezing your thighs together.

“NO…” you whine. “My lady bits are off limits for at least the next 12 hours,” you reply. Ryan laughs loudly, combing a hand through your hair.

“Good that means we can get one last romp in before Debbie brings home the Munchkin!” he says. You groan, pressing a hand to your face, flushing with embarrassment and pleasure.

You love them, and the sex is amazing. They’re great with each other and they’re great with you, and if last night had been a sign of things to come, then you were looking at a wonderful, and exceedingly pleasurable future, filled with love and laughter and everything that’s good. You fall asleep listening to Ryan’s heart beat, with Michael’s steady breathing in your ear. In the morning you’ll call Debbie’s to check on Ryanne and make arrangements for your mother-in-law to bring her back around dinner time. As soon as you hang up the phone and roll back over you’ll find Ryan and Michael going at it like teenagers, and you’ll eagerly sit back to watch, sore as hell from the night before and not particularly wanting some of your own right then. You’ll watch them wrestle and laugh and love and when they’re finished, curl up with them a while and talk. And later after you’ve finally pulled yourselves out of the bed, and gone down to make lunch you’ll find yourself back in your shared bed, being made love to by first Michael, and then Ryan. Both of them being slow and taking their time, getting you off over and over again before coming themselves. When Debbie arrives you’ll be loose limbed and smiley. She’ll grin at you knowingly when you take Ryanne out of her arms cradling your daughter to your chest and smiling at her.

“Thank you sooo much, Mom,” you say grinning at her. She’ll laugh a little setting the baby’s carrier and bags down on the floor near the front door. She’ll grin at you again, pulling you into a brief hug before kissing Ryanne on the forehead and saying goodbye. She’ll wave and wink as she closes the door behind herself.

You love Debbie, you really do. The woman is a frickin’ Saint. And hey, any woman who’ll take their grandchild overnight so that their son and daughter-in-law can get their game on deserves a gold star in your book. You lock the door behind her, shutting out the world again. Mike and Ryan had reluctantly gotten dressed and you find them in the living room camped out in front of the TV with game controllers in your hands. You plopped down beside them, Ryanne giggling in your arms as you lay her down in the V of your legs. They both put down their controllers to coo at her, Ryan reaching out to tickle her, and Mike bending down to kiss her little chubby cheeks. You smile and you’re content. This is family. This is home.

 

The new house is finished, built just the way you all wanted it. In December, you move in, with just enough time to get it decorated for Christmas. Ryan goes down to Florida. He’s put his house up for sale, and is back a week later with a moving van full of stuff. No one questions the possibility that Ryan won’t be there long term.

The three of you are so right together. You work well together, and you’ve never felt so loved in your life.

Time passes.

 

You’re all lying in bed. It’s a tangle of arms and legs, and sweaty skin. Ryan is plastered to your back, stretching up and over you, mouthing your clavicle, hair brushing the side of your face and making you laugh. Mike’s laying in front of you, but way down the bed. His hands on your hips and lips pressed to your rounded stomach. ‘Baby number two’ your mind whispers. A boy this time? Another girl? Michael’s? Ryan’s? You don’t care. You know they don’t either.

Ryanne is excited about being a big sister, telling everyone in her Kindergarten class about her new little brother or sister. You sigh, relaxing back against your pillows, content to lay between them, watching their attentions turn to each other. They kiss across your body, and you smile, watching lips move together, hands gripping hair. They’re not done yet, even if you are. It won’t be long before this baby is born. You’re tired, achy, ready for it to be over with. This time your baby will be born in a nice American hospital, with both your men present from the very beginning. They’ve promised you this! They each have a back-up cell phone they carry around everywhere “just in case.”

Ryan makes a whimpering sound and climbs over you to stretch out on top of Michael. You roll onto your side, watching them cling to each other and smile at how happy they both are, at how happy you all are. You reach out to touch, and Michael catches your hand pulling you into his body. Ryan slides off to Mike’s other side, breaking the kiss to grin over at you.

“How’s your back?” he asks. You flex a little, sliding your arm across Mike’s chest. You wince and give a sigh.

“Sore. Achy,” you answer smiling at him. You rest your head on Mike’s shoulder and he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arm sliding up around your back. Ryan’s right hand finds your left one where it’s resting over Michael’s heart. You smile at the glint of diamonds shining up at you. You rub your thumb over the ring on his third finger and bring your own right hand up into the air. A matching ring sits there on your finger. As if reading your mind, Michael pulls his hand up from Ryan’s back to sit beside the others. Three matching rings. Seeing them all together still makes you grin, even over a year after the three of you put them on each other’s hands. You and Mike still wear your wedding rings. They mean too much to both of you to take off, and in the eyes of the law and the majority of the public, that’s the relationship that counts.

The three of you don’t exactly hide what you are. But you don’t throw it in people’s faces. There are no public kisses and hand holding. No making out at the pool or on the beach during vacation. Your friends know. Your families know. And are, in the end, mostly supportive. The second baby has gone a long way to securing Ryan’s parents backing. Another grandbaby! They’re thrilled at the mere possibility. Ryanne knows. Of course she does. She has three parents that share one room. She’s as smart as you are. She’s figured it out. She calls Michael “Daddy” and Ryan “Papi.” She doesn’t ask questions, she knows it’s different but doesn’t care. You think secretly that Ryan is her favorite. It’s there in her eyes when she draws a picture and crawls up into his lap to show him. She lights up when he smiles at her and he in turn spoils her in practically every way. She comes to you with books in her hands wanting to practice her reading, and goes to Mike when she wants to snuggle and watch TV, or play a game. But it is Ryan she goes to when she’s fallen and hurt herself. He’s her protector, which you think is fitting. He’s been doing so since before she was born. He’s teaching her Spanish, and it was he who took her out to get her new school clothes earlier that Autumn. You still do her hair every morning, but it’s Ryan who helps her pick out her outfits, and choose her earrings and headband for the day.

It makes you smile to see them together. Her curly hair, inherited from you, could easily pass her off as Ryan’s. She’s the best parts of all three of you, and she’s the delight of your life. You know this baby growing inside of you will be just as loved. Just as treasured and spoiled, and adored.

The rumors had begun to swirl about a year after Ryanne was born...

Why was Ryan still living with the Phelps’? He even moved with them in to their new house! Did you see him hugging Cathy after practice the other day? It just doesn’t look right! The baby calls him ‘papa’ and they don’t correct her! What’s going on in that house? He’s been single for much too long!

A few people work it out and it spreads quickly. None of you confirm or deny, which seems to almost make it worse. A few people pull their kids from NBAC there’s a few ridiculous and outrageous stories published in the tabloids. Things get messy for a while. But all three of you come out of it all closer together in the end. There’s no real scandal to be had. Ryan hasn’t broken up your marriage to Mike. There are no screaming arguments, no signs of fighting or abuse. You’re all happy, and Ryanne is as adorable and charming and happy as ever before. The rumors never disappear, but those that truly matter don’t leave. The spaces in the program at NBAC fill up quickly, with kids whose parents don’t care who Mike and Ryan sleep with as long as their kids learn to swim, and swim fast. NBAC is hugely successful even post scandal.

Ryanne had proven to be a born swimmer. You had gone through the water safety classes with her, taking her through all the stages to get her used to the water, and safe to go near it. She’s currently doing extremely well for her age group, and while none of you are pressuring her to keep doing it, or to be competitive, she’s enjoying the hell out of it and there’s already whispers of the next Phelps to take the swimming world by storm. You shake your head at such talk. She’s only 5 years old. A year from now she might discover horseback riding and never want to go near a pool again!

You sigh, snuggling closer into Michael’s side, the baby inside of you rolling and tumbling, and wide awake.

“We should start thinking of names. This kid is gonna be born any time now,” you suggest. Ryan sits up reaching across Michael to press on your belly, finding the exact place where a knee or perhaps a foot is pressing against your skin.

“Well we already have the boys name all decided on. Or have you both forgotten?” he asks. You and Michael both look at him in confusion.

“What are you talking about Ry? None of us have discussed names, not seriously anyway,” Mike says, running a hand up Ryan’s shoulder, and neck to comb through the curls on the back of his head. Ryan smiles widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling up with glee.

“Yes you did. Bradley Michael Phelps,” he says putting his chin down to rest on Mike’s right peck. You roll your eyes.

“That was going to be Ryanne’s name if she was a boy. This is different!” you reply. Ryan laughs.

“I don’t see why. I like that name. It’s a good strong name with a lot of meaning and love behind it. Why shouldn’t we use it if you’re carrying our son, Cathy?” he asks. You smile at the words ‘our son.’

“That’s exactly why! Because if it’s a boy he will be OUR son! Not just Michael’s and mine, but all three of ours! Bradley Michael Phelps is a wonderful name. Full of meaning and love and sentiment. But it’s not good enough for this baby, Ryan! Because it says nothing about you!” you protest.

“I agree. We need to think of something new,” Mike says. He rubs his other hand down your back, rubbing circles into your lower spine. You go limp against him, feeling yourself relax. Ryan sighs. “We could give the baby Lochte as part of their name?” Mike suggests.

“If we don’t go with Phelps everyone will be talking! And I don’t want to have to explain to this kid why he’s the only one that doesn’t have Phelps for a last name!” Ryan answers. You gasp in response sitting up on the bed, a struggle in your condition.

“But you don’t have Phelps as your last name, Ryan! You’re acting like this baby wouldn’t be a part of the family if it wasn’t a Phelps. But that means you think you aren’t a part of this family because you aren’t a Phelps!” You have tears in your eyes and you let them fall, genuinely upset by the insinuation that he wasn’t really a part of the family. Ryan sits up too, and Mike, in an effort not to be left lying between you follows suit. Ryan pulls you over into his lap, cuddling you in his arms.

“I don’t feel that way! You know I don’t!” he picks up your right hand kissing your ring and threading his own hand through yours so your rings clink together. “This is real, and forever. And I know that! But the rest of the world doesn’t get it. They don’t accept it! You know they don’t! If we did something silly like give this baby Lochte for a last name, it would make people curious, but pressure on him or her, and that’s not fair to them. I don’t like it when we see Ry all confused. I don’t want the same for this baby or worse,” he explains. You sniffle nodding.

“I wish we could all just be Lochte-Phelps’!” you argue. “That way we’d all be equal! The government might not recognize it but at least then others would have too. When that Bitchy woman down at the supermarket looks at me with such contempt and calls me ‘Mrs. Phelps’ with that tone of voice, I’d at least be able to hold my head up and reply, ‘That’s Mrs. Lochte-Phelps thank you!’ and walk away without feeling like I’d done something wrong by wearing two rings on my fingers!” you argue. You bury your face in his neck, and pull Mike’s arm further around your middle, as he presses against your back, fitting himself into the embrace perfectly. They way all three of you always managed to fit and always would.

“Well why don’t we then!” Mike asks, sounding excited. You pull your head out of Ryan’s neck, turning to look at Mike in confusion.

“What are you talking about!?” you ask.

“Why don’t we all change our names?” Mike asks. He pulls out of the embrace, standing up and pacing around the room. You turn in Ryan’s arms, putting your back to his chest, the two of you watching Mike pace back and forth. “Think about it. Why don’t we all become Locthe-Phelps’s?” he asks. “Legally change our names! Ryanne’s too! Make it as official as it could be!” He stops pacing to look at you both. “I know it would probably cause a big fuss in the press. But just think about it. Cathy Lochte-Phelps. Michael Lochte-Phelps. Ryan Lochte-Phelps. Ryanne Lochte-Phelps. Bradley Steven Lochte-Phelps.” He climbs back up onto the bed, kneeling in front of the two of you.

“You mean Bradley Michael Lochte-Phelps, right?” Ryan asks. Michael’s smile is blinding.

“We can quibble over middle names later! That’s not what we’re discussing. Is this at least something you’d be willing to consider? To research?” Michael asks you. You sigh, relaxing against Ryan’s chest. You grin and nod.

“It would be making a statement wouldn’t it? That this is real and forever? All of us changing our names!” you ask. They both nod and you bite your bottom lip. “We’ll have to call Brian, see how much time it would take, if he thought we’d be able to get away with it,” you reason. They both laugh loudly in celebration, reaching for you at the same time. Michael dives for your mouth, kissing you soundly before leaning up to kiss Ryan over your shoulder. A sharp pain in your lower back has you wincing, and you sit up a little, catching their attentions as you reach to press on the spot that had pained you. They look in concern as you analyze the pain. It’s familiar. It comes again, accompanied by a cramp in your belly. A contraction. You groan.

“Seriously, baby? Right now?” you ask your abdomen. The baby shifts restlessly inside of you as if in answer and you raise your eyes to the heavens. “Okay, hospital time!” you declare, pushing at helpful hands, and scooting to the side of the bed. Ryan and Michael scramble after you.

“Now?” Ryan asks suddenly frantic. You laugh nodding.

“Contraction, a real one. This baby seems to like the idea of being a Lochte-Phelps. They’re jumping at the chance to be the first one of us so-named,” you explain reaching for your discarded underwear and pants from the evening before. Michael is up and dressing in the blink of an eye. It’s Ryan who sits beside you worried out of his mind, and watching you for any sign of something going wrong. You smile at him, leaning over to kiss him on the lips. “Get dressed, Ryan, we’re about to have baby number two!” you say. He grins at you climbing up off the bed to get dressed. Michael has located your pre-packed suitcase and put it by the door, picking up his cell-phone to start making calls.

“Hey, Mom?” he says walking to the bedroom door and pulling it open. “Yeah, I know it’s late, but Cathy’s having contractions, so…” his voice trails off as he heads down the hall to wake up Ryanne. Ryan pulls a t-shirt on and kneels down in front of you to tie your shoes for you.

“Ryan?” you ask. He smiles up at you, pure joy radiating from his face.

“Yeah?” he prompts, putting the other shoe on you.

“I’m so glad you came to us,” you whisper. His face turns confused. He finishes tying the second shoe, and moves to sit beside you on the side of the bed. You smile, one hand going to take his, the other resting on the under-curve of your belly. “When you broke up with Kyle,” you continue. “I’m so glad you came to us. That you still loved Mike and that he still loved you. Our lives are complete with you in it, our family is whole with your presence. If two babies is all we have I know that it’s what was meant to be. That you and those two babies were what Mike and I needed, without even knowing it,” you explain. His smile is blinding.

“I’m glad I came here too. I just wanted to be with you. With both of you. I knew he’d let me stay, and pat my back and say better luck next time, and that you’d put me in the guest room and treat me like I was one of your own. I think it was the best decision I ever made to come here that day.” You lean forward pressing your mouth to his in a desperate kiss. He tugs you closer. Another contraction in your belly makes you pull away to groan in pain. Ryanne runs into the room just then, clutching her stuffed dolphin, and looking at you in excitement. She climbs up into Ryan’s lap, leaning over to hug you.

“The baby’s coming?” she asks sweetly. You nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m going to be a big sister!” she squeals in excitement. You laugh.

“It might take a little while, but sometime today, yes you will be!” you say, stroking her curls back off her forehead. She grins at you, her first missing tooth showing itself in her smile.

“I’m going to be the best big sister ever!” she proclaims, handing you dolphin and jumping off the bed. Ryan follows her, standing up, and reaching out to help you up as well. You take his hands letting him pull you up off the mattress. You tuck dolphin under your arm, and let Ryan put his arm around you in support as you make your way down the hall and slowly down the stairs, stopping on the landing so you can breathe through another contraction. Ryanne watches with wide eyes as you breathe through the pain. You clutch dolphin to you like a lifeline, and when you can stand upright and walk again, reach out to take Ryanne’s hand.

“Mommy is just fine,” you reassure her. “It’s just the baby trying to get out so they can play with you! They’re getting impatient!” you joke. She laughs, patting your tummy with one little hand.

“Be nice to mommy! She gives the nicest kisses, and knows the best stories! And she cooks the yummiest food. She’s the bestest mommy in the whole world!” she tells it. You smile at Ryan, tears coming to your eyes. He shakes his head, and heads for the door. Michael has pulled the car around, and has it already started waiting for you, your suitcase and Ryanne’s overnight bag already stored inside. He and Ryan guide you to the passenger seat, helping you step up into the SUV, before strapping Ryanne into her car seat.

 

Mike will get you to the hospital safely, but in record time, and Debbie will get there 20 minutes later, to take charge of Ryanne. You’ll give birth with Michael gripping one of your hands, and Ryan the other, just like it always should have been.

Bradley Steven Lochte-Phelps will be born at 8:53am on November 14, 2025. He’ll have bright blue eyes, and a Roman nose, and curly dark blond hair. He’ll look like Ryan, but love Michael best. He’ll love the butterfly and the freestyle and swim like a fish. He’ll be an Olympic Champion. The best butterflyer of his generation, carrying on the Phelps family tradition.

Ryanne will grow tall and beautiful, and elegant. She’ll swim through college and then stop, to become a teacher like her grandmother. Not because she doesn’t have the talent, but because she’ll fall in love her Junior year and wants to start a family. Ryan will always be her favorite, even while she denies having one.

Three years after Brad is born, and quite unexpectedly Michelle Katarina Lochte-Phelps will come into the world. A little surprise for the whole family. The result of a prescription of antibiotics and some failed birth control pills. She’ll be the quietest one of the family, the last baby born to the Lochte-Phelps household. She’ll be pretty and pale, and will dislike the water if she has to go near it as anything but a spectator. But she’ll love books. She’ll be a brilliant writer. And one day when you’re old and grey she’ll write down your story to share with the world.

The story of three hearts that belonged together forever.

Michael makes you laugh, and Ryan makes you relax. They bring chaos and spontaneity into your life but also family and love. Michael’s your Prince, and Ryan’s your Knight in shining armor. You keep them both grounded and focused, and give them a home to come back to at the end of each day. You take care of each other and with them you have beautiful children that give all of your lives purpose and direction. You’re a family and no matter what anyone tells any of you, you know that you belong together. That you’re happy and if one of you weren’t there that the whole family wouldn’t work right. Your lives wouldn’t be complete. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks anyway?

 

The End.


End file.
